Magic

if you read

.

between the lines

.

you find it

.

magically funny

.

forget the tensity

.

they are nothing

.

but

.

sexy rabbits in a

.

black hat

Color Correction

.
.
Subtract the blue,
It’s too cold to ask for a blanket in mid February, when the stores run out of scarves in Geneva; the flowers’ market hibernate in Amsterdam; concrete squeaks in New York City where I exclude the three ice cubes from my pure malt, trying to convince myself that the bartender, who resembles wife of Picasso, likes me. Trying not to drown, I Hang on a deceptive cadence that hangs on a saxophone hanging
on
an
exha-
usted
sigh

Feather the yellow, before my neurons make a melodramatic show,
I order,
I need a smile and a hello;
That don’t consume the rest
Of my April emotions.
I need a monsoon to
Pour all over my sight.
At late night, grand and white
Might shine the moon
And when I yawn

Add red,
Make me scream,
“It’s too spicy
to quit” and
I’ll hit on your
muscle-clock
A femtosecond beat
You chill me
with heat
we- Like any scandalous
Angles- should wear
white
swimming garments
and dive -like any
children-
heads
first
into
Hell