mangled jangled in the space of race
he looked purple shadowed with wide eyes
and wonder
unafraid of escape he
still stayed locked in a love affair
need and greed
lust and bust
time ticked painlessly
wrinkles grew rich
obscurity haven
until at last
a resurrection.
Now he creates art
and happiness
riding into the sunset of verses
where sense and nonsense
merge in a mystical aura.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved,5 days ago
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem