legato. by jon Lyndon


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Boston bound
in a smooth, gun-gray
harbor of rusted
lamprey eels
sucking green algae,
brown blood,
the scum
of drowned murders,

Old lamps around old hotels
like cold holes growing, glowing...
a burnt umber aria
opera bravura,
under pencil-thin bone umbrellas
in the damp blue naked rainfall
down the cobblestone dark alley-way
autumnal night,


Where you
never are.