Dream thought

I have danced with the beggars in my mind.

Sosengen Chaser

In the advent of a discreet bourgeoise dawn, Mussopheles took refuge in Bruha Cervantes intellect - hole. Bolshevik dancers, laser Rimbauds, gregarious playwrights, reticent poets, sonsy sophists and self- penitent id , stroll in and out of this circular, soporific literary void . Absinthe is the order of the day as Menin enters with the frolicking, redolent Rectums.... "Where is my Sosengen chaser ?'' he bellows...... (to be continued ......)

Mysterious voyage

Jurassic junk laden with ebony whispers,
wooden trunks filled with jewelled trinkets,
copper, sapphire and turquoise alabaster Mesozoic eggs,
Friesian urns brimming with pearls,
murmuring looms of Shinto silk,
weeping yards of Egyptian yarn,
cherry blossomed nipples adorn the small pointed breasts of the glistening nubile slaves hard at the oar, epinosic blood and sweat, swirling, slithering down the polished deck - whose galleon ?

Pigment and return

Dry ochre leaves on a desolate driveway.
The wind rustles through the tinseled boughs
While the big white eye in the sky ponders
Before slipping between its cloudy sheets
It is good to feel the soothing coastal breeze
With that familiar smell of summer wafting by.