Home Bitter Poems Mis-appelation

Mis-appelation

Mis-AppelationUnspooled on a fractured sidewalk
an abstract horn man
threads breath into wind
conjurs up a street hustle kiss
in sweet, mostly un-noticed love songs…

Autumn in New York
April in Paris.

That drift like charmed leaves in October
float like sleek pigeons under red brick eaves
while sun beams heave cubed Picasso creases
between high rise apostrophes
riffing retorts of shadow and light
over obsessed Big Apple seekers.

This frayed silhouette’s blue flame guides home
in crossover patterns
moody renditions they hum as they gawk

Autumn in Paris
April in New York.

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