The Art of Mad Seasons: Poetry

Mad seasons create abstract palettes
of drowning suns that
wait for stars to fall into
Jackson Pollock constellations

Prompting vast confessionals
where boy meets girl
to contemplate oak leaves
like Andre Masson

Until they are wise enough to cross
the Eden beneath the Dark Moon
to find the fruit of Winter's Gate:

the fig that Juan Gris knew.


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