Friday, August 3, 2012

Chugging Bug Juice

Eating crepe-like olives 

In the land of dancing liquid

Where the fierce wind 

Softly hits hard

Against the hand

Sailing through the abandoned barn

Of angel wings

Delicately floating downward

In the scent of the anise orchid

That snickers at folly

With impish sweetness

Of the tap, tap, tap

On the glassine fruit

Tasting the tepid tincture

Of the fading spirit breath of the green nymphs

Buzzing in my ears in the dusk

Singing the old gnomish tunes

Of delight and satisfaction

While the creepiness of the brush

Whisks away the glistening fireflies

Into the subliminal indigo veil

That curbs into midnight oranges

In the sky of my youth.

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