Perfume

mystical sunday morning of a smile an inward lightly scented point of view elusive wisps of crisp air jazz brushing across the wet, warm sun/sky of bluish, outstretched blue uncluttered by any unremitting angel. bad or good. restored form grand sorrows, or not. whether fettered to a tall roost, or fallen to the hard ground no conjuring up of clanking, carping ghost chains . clanking & complaining about half - witted histories no horses to ride my thoughts too wide. no thoughts to skittishly hurry my horses limping by scattered. odd and addle - brained sludge stuck in gobbling. lying. whining. and short - sighted the epiphanies of these horrors, they skate away for the moment salted to taste, with all the time in the world this moment with its vague sense of well - being this momentary minute with its vague, comforting sense of density