The passing of the last patriarch deserves a Williams one act
The secrets there seep like Texas Gold and sprawl across the collective Western landscape
Mimicking the scars of wandering saints lost in my memory
A rogue poppy for remembrance in a shade of sinister scarlet
(not the outlaw orange picked from a ditch for archy’s transmutation)
blossoms under a bloody eclipse; a primal scream echoing through decades of disappointments
The birds return in colors too rare for Cardinal Haarlem
Echoes of pirate poems spiced with saffron chattering phrases of the forefathers and bringing closure to New World catastrophe
Please don’t forget to give my love to your sons and ancestors in Valhalla
One day I will join you, but not just yet
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