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The Carnival Boxes and boxes of dumbly stacked hammers, striking hardware shelves in heavily-cleft stammers. That which builds by force also destroys much the same. Wriggling beach-shore stranded fish, to escape watery grave they wish. Ill-suited means make for ill-ventured losses. Lemon Myrtle sprouts sputtering stem, a wafted furor in ireful hem. Beauty is often interwoven in chaos. Crawl-climbing through crowds of tortoise, each footstep made with purpose. The best judgements are made with an ounce of torpidity. Twirling graces push past hemlocked faces, past wavering tongues like river-streamed laces. Finely felt fabric makes fragile fingers static. A dark amber hue masks nightlight’s royal blue, radii reach over like feathers of a Sioux. Lamplight battles shadow, an eternal tug-of-war. A plastic animal citadel revolving in carousel, joyless vestal eyes never can show or tell. Meaning given to imitations.
Giuseppe Gillespie – December 2021
Cover Pic: Giovanni Domenico Tiepolo – Carnival Scene (The Minuet) 1754 – 1755
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Giuseppe Gillespie Writing 