Disentangle Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
Disentangle
Disentangling constellations at 1: 00 in the morning,
With a wreath of dead flowers at hand.
I watched the furious stars
Change colors debonairly
And I assume the condition of a dying maudlin
On a death bed inside a hospital
With no roofs to block the rain
From curdling and sculpting my feigned states
Of exuberance
Monday, December 12, 2011
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5/4/2024 7:15:45 AM # 1.0.0.1119
