RUSSIAN PIER VICTORY #3

Is this the weed, green and grown
and Ivy; great, yet groundless
grown? One way or the other,
I went; whispering, windless-
ly swindling superbe, austere.

Saw the women of little Odessa
crab fishing with corny chicken
pawns. My way or the high tray,
I thread’d; wondering, with’ring-
ly wandering obnoxious, -solete.

A rhythm of weight-wave and gritty
Latin (grave) – spheres that usually
don’t mix – makes love with the
moody guest swing. Spill the specks
and get in the sting, stubborn or
stupid.

Or neither of these: to observe is
severely on piece of steak and on
term’s space of cake; aloof-loving
niche.

Is this the catch twenty, two or
too icy; golden, graceful
yawn? No man’s brought
to bother his land; flexuous-
ly flaring interne… and dear.

M.J.C.A. 20-04-2006