This Is How I Spelled Your Name Before We Ever Met

Himmel-Finny Sun; tipsy Angels loitering in the prayers of the wicked
With no intention to ever stop staring at the Sun; deaf as Divine malt Scotch
In a thimble of Metaphors, fomenting on the head of a Pen.
That Yellow Horn in the Blue Sky, scrounging for derelicts and blind pennies
Stuffed in a Bank of Fog… Like an epoxy resin ornament gathering dust-
As Souls for The Swiffer.

Sea Shanty eyes harbor lost thoughts.
And the wind can’t recall where-
all the owls are...

so you’re on your own.