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That Motley Drama of Scenic Solitude

in the dead of (winter) night
in the dead of winter (night) 
a mime was executed for stealing pancakes

the gunpowder tango sounded
over the burnt black bones of Bastille

wretchedness comes in manifold reverie
in distempered visions of epochal disasters

mime's widow's now loitering enshrouded 
dismal and dismantled into the strawberry 
storm of desolate lament on a horizon

monomaniacal embers of deceased mementos
shuddered after the rain of infirmity

day dawned once again with frolicsome frogmarch 
in shrubberies echoing the ghastly romance

friendly fiends and fiercer fury of mountain tops
are inversed by limb contorting boredom
in the dead of (winter) night
in the dead of winter (night)

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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