Marooned on a couch brown raft -rocking lle-de-France
Sullen blackboard jazz blowin from across the navy New Orleans seas. 

Slo-mo angels doing somersaults on my torn red curtain reverie
in these broken Halloween bones and mask
I rummage through the ashes that crashed me into
this pink, new golden face dawn..

floating past jagged-edged icicles into the night melting
chocolate Clark Terry’s “They Didn’t Believe Me.”

Love lost is something we can never afford
head stuck on a starboard mast
crashing through storm waves painted in dead dreams. 

And feeling that familiar frost-bitten regret again- that we never
consummated the close quarters of then,,,what are regrets other than dead
sea gulls floating in a ghost soup sea.



Red Canvas by Richard Tuttle, 1967 (Fair use)