Love and vice versa

the mandolin next door played into

dusk; a hymn, a forgetful lullaby.

you two, with your touching hands.

the rosewood tree in the back garden

blossomed only once this year.

its petalled pink uncertain

it languished with the chilly march lions

and late april which stole its pussies.

archetypical lonelyboy

wanting the sex and the love

settles for a job and a ten-cent whore.


a saturated mediateque of

brightflashinglights—the yellows elapsing,

oh, oh, the blues try to rescue…

bright flashing lights and the bulbs

and the quickpulsed notes that blink.

they come up on you so.

played well into dusk; a harp joins in.

this song has no last note.

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From the desk of A. D. Jacobson.

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