from begins where these paper boats

entered anchored setting sail

to known coasts

all the isles

voyager visionary

where to begin

chapters close

only to open anew

my vagabond blood boils

over nocturnal flights

each perimeter dances

Tarocchi his aristocratic nose

is crooked formed into

forked roads edged

palmistry

come sit at this table

there is only one atlas

called life

sometimes I would swear

into images caught by illumination

beloved ones I am letting go

technologies can not alter

fare thee well

flying carpets

red damask

april 5th 2026 lost count thing number 9 or ten