The Street Parade

        after  lunch  the  pattering  broke
    we  were  alone  with  our  vague  and  unchristened  notions
       about ourselves and God   and strolled nowhere, at times psychic
        at times utterly in love

                          our tears obscured the misfit street parade   and
                   we   surrendered   to   a   medium   of   pure   remembering
                    lost,    lost    —   some   atomless fluid   
                    some  mathless ratio
                                     our longlost happiness.

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can read it here for free, or get it for your e-reader on iBooks, Amazon or Kobo. Or you can just say you read the book, and donate five bucks down below. Go on.

Gabriel Muoio

$1.00

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