Chiaroscuro
breathingly
I walk alone
wondering how
the stars (no more)
shine
on here
passingly through
electric lights (of smoggy skies)
casting yellow paste
on
tortured bees
endlessly
with solitude
(of a slave)
smearing and scraping
to finish
the day
resurrectently
never to know the
endlessly white
of a starfire night
-mmb
I’m thankful to know such a gifted, ingenious, inspired, inventive, prolific, ravishing,
and stunning mind…