circus2.jpg!BlogFlashing neon city lights peek through canvas scars
And they smile in a grotesque circus of oil pastels still life.
In the empty sphere
cornered is the silver thin sketch
of that missing, crispy, sliced in half, lovers’ moon
turning solemn in the clouded sky
where stars whisper beneath secrets
covered with ethereal dust
the-painter-to-the-moon-1917.jpg!Blogwoven with a virgin olives and fig trees veil
“I do not know you sweet red Night”;
But the painting keeps coming back
Like a shipwreck alarm–
seven short and one long blast,
 white bread drowned in wine blood;
the last breath
chagall-lovers-with-half-moon-1926is that moment
where we float in and out of our fading thoughts
and finally unite in a memory kiss
always locked in a birth-stone crystal charm
and some old close-up photo tracks;

 Oh, spread your wings again in green n’ blue, 
 reaching the final bliss
before the last night sinks
and dawn cuts
resting sea with its  sailing sharp ship prow.

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