Weathered
Aaron DeWeese
A tropical blue strikes with nostalgia
Upon the yellowed waters of the past
Summers of rot become clouded through the glass
My left eye roams, struck with dementia
A book of strange words brings us to erection
Spores and a dankness carried forth by West
A familiar black dog brings news of sadness
The Patriarch spends his time inbreeding
The Fool laughs, dances without understanding
Shiny green scales, the leotard for dress
Walk away on red carpet, shunning the rest
My right eye focuses on the Island
Here there are no winds, only currents of time
They flow forth from a pool of paradox
I drink from a spring in the high above rock
Glimmering reveals a Mercury dime
What gentle message hath Providence planned.
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