Tuesday, August 19


Joseph, moons and stars bow down
When gravity obeisance claims 
You wander, hopeless, hapless, helpless, seven years of seven dreams

And afterward the dust of what could be remains
These others speak of one another, quarrel and fuss,
So querulous,
While silent suns in orbit round your brain
Interpret technicolor visions through the rain

Jealous, joyless move the clowns 

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