How the monk never put out the fire in his invisible hair……

Wizards. The monster of Ravenna.  Big Apple confectionary dusty lights beep. The communion of aches, dreams, stars dripping wax upon the Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a time in America.   Blood of  the swans stain. Once upon a time pure intentions. Meanwhile spices smoulder and pastrami ‘s sweat.   

The weeping muses can never collect the lost caramelized pages.  Where are the  wizards we wish to see?    Who is that little boy laughing with icicles dripping from his button nose?  The sands of Ravenna between his toes?  The sacred tongues of fire, the burning seal of soddered soul ,waxes a violet tear.  Grandmother Nonna baptized the little monk in the holiest of holies with the purest heart . He carries her cerulean and golden jeweled legacy spinning like the Goddess Kali”s swords revolving all his life.  He dreampt of the salty branzino’s swimming, the eels, the anchovies,  the hot pourous caves dripping crystal stalagtites shimmer, like love letter valentine calligraphy.  Captured  love letter illuminated manuscripts of his early  Neptunian pre-tragic youth.

The sacred tongues of fire, the burning seal of soddered soul ,waxes a violet tear.

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