Another Farrago of Boilerplate Clichés
See through teardrop
of pale gold fire,
tail wagging sperm-
frantic over its
long wax melting time
as candle tears worm
down and freeze along
the white ghost length;
Where the flying spirit-
angel-free with wings
like Monet’s end-of-
-day palette,
some attempted
saint, or Icarus,
mimics all of us
and the Hindenburg