Todden Tanz

Constantine inhaled a dream

An airy construction 

Filled with fervent decórs

She recognized it from the Book of Deo

And saw words illuminated in diagonal

Where sugared thoughts were spoken free

And spitted on a half-finished dome

Alongside

Blue was defeated by Azure

Which colonized the wallpaper

That depicted Odysseus 

Wading within

Angelic squeaks of sea horses 

And Hobos aligned

Between smoking crevices on floors

Their gaze Indulgent 

They've mistaken his kayak

For their pillowcases

But the clock knew that they were hidden

In a wardrobe of dresses

Whose masters think they are sopranos

But were actually scientists

So sleep is never a Rich occupation

But sometimes you hear concerts instead of rainbows

Who stretch from the door mill

Sharp expanse to the tip of your toe

Something that would sound like dead poetry

That were only applauded by

Glittery critters in an era 

The maid exhales and names it times

La crimosa

Her blow cracked the walnut

That envisioned the map drawn as it began moving

And thus incarnated the prince of ants

"Fuck you Socrates"

Cursed him as

The marbles in his nightly palm 

Reflected A profile gloomy and watershed

It was Deo 

The name of the author

Blinded by the incense of pages

Constantine dropped her pen

On a lyrical furniture

Her confusions

Were not a bit saved 

By the thousand pieces of caricature

Aha