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.
