CVD19.1

In the evening, of day one,

Alone 

Facing to the east.

As the wind

Feels this way:

Caressing parting sighs

And I dissolve

Down the valley

(Making sure Essex Dogs plays loud).

On this inward retreat.

Some hands seem chapped and,

Where a heart is desiccated,

It is integral to this boney city.

Dried: clattered,

Clapping at nothing and an

Empty hollow: shattered

Where a terra rosa stains

Along rivlet driven tears

And life dissolves there.

Clay, lies uselessly

Fat, under

Fixated assurity.

While, my heart dissolves

Into a Rochefort's happy, holy,

Vectoring attack, it

Releases me - but

I cannot step aside

This appalling season.

For a time of real,

Bloody pumping,

We forget those trusts,

In which we know

There is no answer!