"Appeal" (New poem, 2021/12/23)

on the right, purple, amethyst roofs
diffuse pains, old fingers
dog consolation grows
that's enthusiastic, examines the clothes
dried up, damp, long lost
amazing flight
her darkroom, with groans
or ground lavender
but the fifth floor in Or changes the buyer

born centuries on phosphorus
softly, my eyes
but his children come out of the alleys like the fifth floor
as if Romanians at night
if it sounded
tempting shopkeepers

the newsmen take it, this close fire has amassed the old ghetto
pushing through the biscuits
one burning glory gesture of persuasion
similar to calico
walls so low
whom still in groups

they got the appeal and up warped
in the collapsed ghetto
in her bales at the traffic lights
they nibbled on us without any momentum, here is a little mother
she saved points with her foot
in which thread
what and what and how
he garments infinite like theirs like

he honks
lustful, nothing more than resonant
stunningly indomitable and above all burning clay at night
and bales muffled by old chalices
I know the dungy, I rock
their sign over the great grave
here it spreads out

the word clutch
her welcome pack of women
on his in his smooth old she spits her eye
duvet always stretched out
like men always beauty scarves
razor and untenable ... their strap
oh, and the pools ... majestic gaze at the door
to the screams of tenement houses
like hail, and bluntly and his children with an appeal