the wakeful ones are Felines who comb thru Sky-stained Night;
teeth, claws, glowing eyes, flash Fire
Upstairs live the immigrants
a tear alights his dying eye
(tenement heat scars the approaching mourn even further);
once Her Sea closes: complete surround;
Boardwalk's exhausted Carousel emanates rot, but keeps her rhyme:
no other way to go but 'round
for faded Carousels -
once you've mounted, all is gone,
The Carousel enchanted his boy;
had he remained in Sicily... ?
("Next! Passport!" his Momentary Mind photo)
...stray thoughts for which we have no Time;
for the breath you blow through my aching Mind.
no idea why these words flow now, to thee- I worship Words.
Thou art a Muse.
I treasure the "copy-editor" endorsement on LinkdIn. :) <3 CF
** for "The People," to quote a dear wee one April May 2014 on some calendars