Amidst the tanned, living fields
The ghostly shades are drifting.
Magic canning jars full
Of crickets riding their bicycles.
Perfumes in a green case
And porcelain faces to break,
Mom seldom wears perfumes.
This house has many basements
Locked away in silence.
What ghosts proceed from the barn?
Those that follow my friends –
But my friends will overcome them
One day – Thank God.
Joker is dead, but
No dog heaven will hold her.
Her blue eyes are so full of the
Illusory love those shades