Wednesday, August 29, 2018
Fugue Of Innocence
The drolls of ambivalence
and conditional fear
mackle all self-embattlement;
infinite vacancy and lucid guilt
gloom like marcid memories,
Eros, you marksman of love
that place pennants upon thy prey,
haunt still, in the most peculiar storm
like peregrine thoughts
that visit without welcoming,
they plunge like mercurial keepsakes,
for these endless and justified whists
erode like cancer that enumerate and
emblazon our sacred time together.
* This beautiful gal I once dated was killed
in a car wreck years ago, and she visits me
from time to time.
- John Hardesty
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