(Poppy, Alphonse Mucha)
As things tend to be a lament
long as long as an endless
smile at times like poetry
as wanted to be to these pages as often
opium dreams
sweeping aerial views and more wildly divine
all fantasies ...
The pipe dream of a muse
invented in the verses of a thousand poets also invented
on the wings of a bird, the strokes
Mucha, a dream
the
After
is nothing more than a small chunk of death
A pipe dream which I do not know if I ever wake up again ...
soon friends
My Kiss Opium Poppy
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