Sunday, July 14, 2024

There is no parade for raining sunsets

There is no parade
For raining sunsets
Except dull moon palm trees
Are books on Mars
There is no stealth reason
To accumulate the gifts
Of starlings and pumpkin trees
That do not smell
Or retreat
At favors lost week lawn
I will hide away
Inside the circumference
And tell the matter dismay
That I alone will find her
And scratch the balcony
For dull parasite dreams