Poem: Aria Of Was

 

Aria Of Was

 

fiery palms 

clasp through a long goodbye,

failing to exit that which clings 

with the audacity of a tomb.

 

i will not kiss again,

no chisel to extend the was of my lips.

no pyramid of joys to reclimb.

sometimes my face, i know,  

might chance to reform on a sweep of wind,

much like 

passions of rain 

strum an ocean’s blue breadth. 

so many gone-down drops of tears 

and words.

so it was and so  

i played the fields of love,

heaving for a while

and yet

it was a music of solos,

and the ocean, after everything is said,

stands alone.

gone with the storms, just like that,

so many lovely hearts, 

who never could cure 

what caskets store in wooden breasts. 

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7/26 total rewrite .. .  more struggle with mediocrity

6/26 eds

9/16/25 .. not mine

8/2/24 .eds... epitaph