Poetry
The scent of youth drifts tonight
At the Perfume club meeting,
At the café fancy perfumery table
Four feminine enthusiasts,
Collectors of
remembrances.
Small notes of literature
And music in fragrances
Glass vials dangling from noses
Sexy sexy,
Sniff sniff,
They Drift
Away
Once you fancy this
You will know
Stolen flowers,
Dirty knuckles,
Charlatan kisses,
Vampire popularity.
number 4711 is a favourite.
Sandalwood and leather,
Roses and a hint of ruby grapefruit.
Between them all,
Bottles softening pain,
The collapsible loneliness we all feel.
Snake oil on amazon
darlings
So pretty and Iconic without Oxford,
Too sour for the inedible sweetness,
of now
If you like drama like this then you are,
Planting moons Inside tomatoes
Rosy cheeks swelling with joy,
While empty healing sits quietly
In demure hand gestures and rotating wrists.
In the Tail end of dead matter
Stolen time-absent lovers-fortitude sense and
Sensibility of a modern woman
The aged anacondas cry out in a tired Babylon
Spirited sparrows sing sweetly
While Sweet delicious pie cut for the masses
Sweetness and bliss for you
This will do
Much like a bag of licorice all sorts
Spilling fully against a red dusk
Fire dancers
Yma Sumak
Or torch singers
Finesse.
Finesse and refinement and free faltering
Petal curl
Eyelash agreement and mesmerized smiles
Discussions of sociality classless in numbers
So many impressions from beyond the tabletops
Obviously
Recycled scents are reminders of a garbage dump in heaven
Thrown out past lives
In half decanters of memory
Francis a Willey
October 17 2011