feels like being
a brown, fallen angel
from paradise:

in Haiti,

diamond thorns
crown
the roods of
blue coifed
palm trees

opalescent smoke
paints
richly tinctured clefts
in
mountain faces

succulent vegetation
carpets
rocky parapets
in luxurious,
shamanic,
emerald Suede;

This is the carpet of nirvana;

it shines with
juicy crown jewels
of dew,
and erupts
with orgasmic
nimbuses of
igneous bloom:

the god stars
walk here,
their Buddhist feet
touching the holy
fire of glory
and flowers.

piercing blue waters,
like the true heart
of a
treasure sapphire,
reflect heaven

my angel wings
are chalked in
American soul,
golden feathers
caked in stars
and pilgrim stripes

angel i, angel me
yen for
the angled heaven
of Ayiti

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