vim and vigor...

photo by EJR ©

satyr masquerade attired

inquiring an invitation

all pimped out trying

to look buying

without dying

of course before dancing

I would not want to be

looking for another soul

steps away from

the entrance hall

to Persephone’s ball

and her underworld heaven

she has whimsical powers

ways to bleed you unseen

she steals color slow enough

to watch you smile

when she strides by with what

used to paint your flesh, vibrantly

she is Autumn

I could not see her

but I certainly heard her entrances

felt her cirrus cloud trailing(s) in

her tides from sea foam little roars

her slaked and climbed hungry rivers

her valley tongued eons, shale and clay

ghost-poem-ing me

and probably you

entranced too

somewhere along

where articulation

will listen for

these things

somewhere time is

twisting orbital looping

reading me as calendrical

a slightly odd angled observation

a Schrödinger's cat seen enough

to algorithmically seek no answer

that could be construed as final

I remembered she angles her knives

plays behind the curtain charades

shadow filling her cutting sun Septembers

she tipples tickled calling

through the windows

I nose press

scent the dust

trail my concern

fingers running

against a cold afternoon

waiting on decay

the outside is

inside again

looking for me

wanting to play

for pussy and cradle

wanting me to gamble

with words

not quite impossible

c'est la vie

ready, rolling dice

betting on a corner

tuck and ride

EJR ©