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..vulpinera...

drenched
a seasoned brocade
of sandy shorn terms
worn vestments
and dipped warm
chrome eschewed
through to the
terse brass

vineyard palette
on sardine gunwales
brackish mud
on iron anchored
ideals

drawn eye with
a least effort
like a white wing
on a pacific
notion
the pure cloth
of a dress
not comforting
the thigh
stretched in
an undulation
in sails of wind

Editing stage: 

Comments

except my failure to comprehend
as usual
u r
beyond the galaxy
where I alone dwell
isolated

loved

Sounds like a beautiful painting, enjoyed reading. Regards Roscoe...

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

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