Saturday, July 15, 2017


Stumble and tumble do we through ages of cobwebs
And hence, tightly wrapped
Are thus forever trapped

Sepia termites have digested our ramshackle scenery
Pastel brown moths our threadbare costumes

Bluebottle larvae feast on our flesh

A bluebottle fly tumbles through ages of cobwebs
And hence, tightly sealed
By and by escapes a butterfly

Did I miss something there sweet innocence?

The sheen on her skin the shine in her eyes
But deathly white to decay her image flies

I be a pure thread of white cotton fine
But not ‘till lovingly woven
Do a funeral shroud I weave sublime

Hand the monkeys the loom

Did I miss something there?

Image “The Wounds” © David F. Brandon 2017 (With Jone Hernández and Vivien Tan)