Specter Of Wealth © Surazeus 2024 06 16 I cannot stay in this house anymore, the old woman shouts at crows on phonelines, then tears pages from the Bible, and flings their hopes and lies at the dumpster of trash, eyes blazing with holy vision of death while families pass to eat in restaurants. Old man in short jeans and tattered blue shirt explains to ash tree outside the art store, I am great Tithonus, grandson of Ilus who founded fabulous city of Troy, then fishes crushed takeout tray from the trash to eat spaghetti while the river gleams. We can get married now in the white church, and raise three kids while you work at the bank, Eurydice hisses behind cupped hand at the old man who refuses to share spaghetti that splatters on hot cement when she grabs his arm till he stalks away. Shaking the Dead End sign with her left hand, Eurydice growls at the passing truck, my stuff keeps disappearing through the years, so I cannot remember who you are, then stomps across the street at the red light, asking no one, so which side are you on. Rocking back and forth as he swings his arms outside dirt-smudged window of First State Bank, that during the pandemic went bankrupt, Tithonus mutters at specter of wealth, I cannot save you from choices you make so give poisoned apple back to the snake. Trembling at sudden sight from door of time of the six-winged seraph with golden eyes, Eurydice sneers at the glorious light that radiates from Eye of Eternity while tearing concert poster off brick wall that shows her doppelganger Taylor Swift. Picking flowers in front of city hall, while singing snatches of old Beatles songs, Eurydice climbs over metal rail, and scrambles down steep bank of muddy rocks to wade in passion of the swirling flow, floating past people at the river park. Bearing drowned body of Eurydice from Oconee River with caring arms, Tithonus lays her under willow tree and tries to breathe breath of life in her mouth, but stares mute as she crumbles back to dust, then he falls asleep in alley by the church.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Sunday, June 16, 2024
Specter Of Wealth
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Orpheus and Ophelia eat in the Italian restaurant as they watch homeless people outside on the street.
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