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Ticking the tock fancy

While this, my green passion
Reared in composts drawn on skylines
I posted yearnings in heaven homes
Justifying art when art had few bones
But my mother had a ceramic schedule
Invigorating time’s veins to 
Gardens drown in mystical cats
Clawing at my ephemeral shoes
I wished my sentence in this god
Who like Mars, all brim and scorching
Take’s minutes to the cleaners
Ticking the tock fancy 
All screams and tangy fruit
Spill over the seams of my voice
I’m panicked for my skin
Who dreams all sunsets true and complete
Resting a quaint foot 
Heeling my silent madness
Residing in my heritage
I paint blues this evening
To drive crushing circles
At war with the squares in you
Ghosting viral arguments
All spun a mess
In a mezzanine 
Dressed in spiders who dance
Terrific ballet of the heart
To culminate a black glory 
As these pass along like fortune’s hero

Other works by Jeremy Andrew Barthelemy...



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