City of Forgiven Whores|
In this city
where birds fly upside
down, and sadness is a welt
made by a raindrop he comes to me.
He speaks of sleep-talking dreamers,
whores dunked by blind preachers,
then kisses me like when we were young.
I tug him inside
and we soar till our wings melt--
two candles, burnt to the nub
of a universe rebuilding.
We fall past old gods
converted to new ways of seeing
into the clear cleansing river of Eros
that finally Huck Finns us away.
Published in In The Fray, Sept 2008
Art: She by the angel and bottle of bourbon
by Vakhtang Kukulia copyrighted
See more of his amazing work HERE
(There is no email listing for him on the Internet
that I can find. If someone has a contact email
pls inform me)
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