Scribbles on a Broken Keyboard

viewing reality

through a light caramel

tinted glass,

figures become

blended into the atmosphere

like tiny colorful

blotched smudges

within a painting.


the words so gentle and still in precision– being plucked from the bag of



how they thoughtfully and ever so graciously dilute the route of syntax, sprinkling

the leaves in fields with poppy seeds.


the third caramel elixir

goes down as I look through

its emptiness and see her naked

body standing beside me.


she opens the window and carefully

brings a flame towards her mouth,

making sure she leaves

patterns in the wind

as tiny dancers lunge

from her parted lips.


E. Eliot, USA

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