A journal of narrative writing.
After Florence

After Florence we began to learn again. Our jobs became a bit meaningless, We felt more comfortable in our intoxications In the stain of the rose We were trying not to eat. What to do with enlightenment and no ambition? It was a giant who chased us Out of our minds, out of his mind. I had to hold your hand five miles above the earth, A wide fire burning across central Florida, The dark ribbons of smoke woven In that memory of an island By death and its chattering. After Florence we began to understand The abstract nature of prayers, Exoskeletons blown into space. Soon ancient children were appearing unannounced At dinner with baskets of fruit And bouquets of vapor, Bottles of undiscovered wine And loaves of impossible bread.