Mary, intent on traipsing not oh-lord-so-bored walk,

Merried herself across railing’s trailing-spring boardwalk,

Marrying fantasy via nightcapped-with-khat walk,

Merely fancied in fascinator on clapped catwalk. ; )

For the bullionist believes more wishes in the well somehow improves odds, whether by sheer count of coin or value of each face. But, gates can turn heavenly or leadenly—opening way to oneiric odysseys or closing quay to soul sellers and gyp ships. Hold not less faith in the loafer’s penny, tossed in the fountain for neither desire nor mimicked indifference, but for half-second’s fleeting joy—aural plop and rainy drop—that, then, does not so metallically sink as it does metaphysically rise spirit’s peace via winsome wonder—and its granted waves reverberating. ; )

That which alights horizon of sweating swevens,

Connecting its bow to rain collected below,

Buttercupping awe across pool’s static still—

Like the grace of a tear running a chinned cheek

As it limns balm upon morbidezza’s fallen face—

Finds, in its terrestrial tattoo, an oneiric offspring,

An iteration of itself as fleeting as a held blink,

Yet sincere enough to assure that it—as ink’s imago—

Holds worth—in space of its breaking, bonding mercy. ; )

Scape scraped, by doty duty, of any organics

Sees

Negative is positive re goth-upon-Hoth acts

As

Chilled feels watch darkness light appeals for renew’s reveals

By

Prestige releasing please-cease-deceases cape—from drape. ; )

In kaputt Herz did remain

Minnesinger’s sung refrain.

Then, by fortuitous gain,

Alit a handgemacht crane,

Who called, before it did wane,

Of granting love hope again. ; )