The Nacreous Oughts

07 April 2006

   Tower of Cats

cold planet was yet
not like my dream feast hour
from a time to throw
off these story whispers steel
all as red gold going have

sometimes a sloop beyond control
trumps the trollop pools
of my yonder brisk tower of cats
and I spool it so

sometimes an unwary tractate
Oz dolls into attic pours
syrupy as the dawn fathoms
a sloop beyond control

K. S.

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