Angel, Louis Del Grosso

after-the-stormAfter the Storm, Romona Youngquist, 24 X20, Oil


Discord controversy Roman letters on green paper twin leaflets in the eyes of the sun
Angel raises a shot glass to the sunset the light of urine of a working day passed
With a westerly smile wish no mismatch angel sometimes feels responsible
Then not much angel but quite a gal a good idiot slight glower puss
The angel stabs at her mania the love cubes clink in the glass
Angel’s eyes are rigged for bear
Angel strikes the evening bell
The vodka stops burning
Angel visions an occult temple
Out of this world in the main hall of Baal Building an alter inside a gyre
The world is sitting pretty
The rawness of the angel
A need to sap a human being
Nirvana is taxis lined at the curb
Dump the tin bones in the Aqueduct
Game is afoot
Angel cannot brook nor escape the good idiot of luck
Brutish hallucinations are the result
Whistling come taxis
Angel you saw your subconscious like pinewoods
Taxi hang out then listen and bring an angel close
Axe gripped against the forest
In the morning after coffee and glazed
Rye barrels in the cellar to test for fermentation a wake of grapes
Swirling of fruit flies angel bright European cigarettes unsmoked on the shelf above the oven

Louis Del Grosso

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