CHAOS

The ruthless jostling with slithery palms

on a bloody collapse.

The role of an idiot who's got it ¬-

He'll never be allowed

To the world of sensible.

The palms are suffering.

The shades fall down

With amorous delay

Under transparent light.

The faith

And its lechery

Take wing

Towards the south.

Or north.

All the same to me.

The sun is shining.

Scarlet scales

Which have got the blood from a red fish's

Wounds.

The white from a variegated painting

Forgotten after the rain

Is always deceitful.

The wind ¬

A dangerous silence ¬

Mixes everything.

We've got

Chaos of impossibilities.