Cancer Sleep…

Random Acts...

If only the cancer

of her glistening image

were some benign shade

rather than a malignant

choral overture

spreading radiant beams

of green memory

above troubled dreamscapes.

Her eyes sleek with wonder

over the powering landscape

of this city’s glowing charm.

The way stars faded…

…as if bowing to her

iridescent sovereign presence

over the domain

of a busy Pacific coastline.

Her hair divinely draped

across polka-dot contours

whispering through this

tumor of spreading time.

A dormant diffusion

of sprinkled nightfall

offers little cure…

…for corrupted desires…

 

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