(no subject)
Some Bacchus, a dreamer with eyes flecked
with summer snow, red veins like chalet lines,
to become old ghosts of fathers, and their royal houses--
eaves icy with inheritance let remorse slide off slick into
daggers of frozen water,
women with legs like Alpine legend--(how they go on and on forever)
know better--whose mother's crime was a look like a solstice.
Let his kingdom, its dynasty of dementia and salmon sunsets,
disappear into bottles, let memory move pretty girls to exile.
with summer snow, red veins like chalet lines,
to become old ghosts of fathers, and their royal houses--
eaves icy with inheritance let remorse slide off slick into
daggers of frozen water,
women with legs like Alpine legend--(how they go on and on forever)
know better--whose mother's crime was a look like a solstice.
Let his kingdom, its dynasty of dementia and salmon sunsets,
disappear into bottles, let memory move pretty girls to exile.