Molotov mixed spice. (diary)

Fearing fire molotov mixed heaven 

ahead of the thirsty road 

that would take him past ferris 

to close a case called sesame.

he at once knew himself from time spent 

as a youthful dancer table topping 

With antlers and owls who regularly 

switched grubby cities for pinches 

of spice


to meet with the double crossed blades 

Of traitors creating laws behind 

diamond glazed doors 

sommeliers say to have Seen 

Themselves reflecting in the rivers

Dyed with blood of anemas.


Where paper mill soaked the residue

Of war torn spill

children dip their toes where some Go 

to meet there boarded maker.

A match dreadnaught no longer boxed

Bathed and refreshed.