The Colony Fennario —

Yes, wanderer by trade,

shelling fronts our open door,
knocked chain gypsum guitars
and louche prophets,

a Belluvue outpatient case
ensorcells across rye
levied years of clown-carred

Tutankhamen, of Hernán Cortés
widowed above the Milton Plaza,
disjointed names, eponymous
as our landsmans’ luminous

demolition of days, illegible,
(*craft swim notes),

harbinger of the epitaph:
Pyrocenic age —

Larcenous; Aquamarine;