the loneliness of distraction
a question of language
the cravatted pirate hijacking the turntable
wait up to see the shooting stars
tearing holes in the firmament
of crystal glass
name a rose after that velvet queen
lost in the garden
painting portraits and hustling
the elite for a pound
speak the names of those gone before
unfinished manifestos staked
to scarlet trees
Coronets For Ghosts 
Reblogged this on City Jackdaw and commented:
from my poetry blog
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