Andreas Vesna Poems

Mirror we're back here again
Fate has rolled with his icy cold knuckles
The summoning of our fateful intertwining paths
Like the sparrow who wrestled against lathes of gore
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Waiting anxiously with my skin dampened in the clammy grasp of my cotton fleece, yet the blue pen and lead pencil perched on the front cover are soothingly calm.

Mouths from all the room's breadth collectively mumbling like the static on the radio in the corner to Him above. Their outstretching minds flare out relentlessly asking for a sacred touch, grappling like the ivy outside the window.
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The cracking of the eggs have set in motion the meandering processes of delectable genesis, with their orange eyes filled with fiery embers of colour. However they are to be joined by an enveloping slew of sugar, as tasteful as the fruits from an edenic enclave in the jewels of the pacific. Then the rest of the ingredients trample in. Flour, baking powder and a sultry drizzle of butter, melted like dropped ice cream on warm summer concrete. Given a stir and a dollop of vanilla, with it's delicate notes of the tropics, and the emulsion disappears into the oven. Now comes the waiting game.
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Words of sandpaper
Chilled like overcast cherry punch
Kiting perfection
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