The Cold Bitter Strawberry

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What rite, o’ place of passages?

What Light, o’ ignis fatuus plane?

riding the waves of Sine,

every since we’ve cum

through the door’s disdain

as Vermilion

as the vermin of Khmer Rouge

living la Vida loco

we climb the hillsides

to vacancy rooms

sloping down mountaintops

of the Mourning to you

without the u

in n, doubled and m

there’d be no Victorian me

for we are more than a trio,

You see?

star trekking while globe trotting

every man leaves his mark

upon the covers

vi to xv as 1 is to thee

born again consistently, one behind

thee other

of the fountains of youth,

curriculum vitae, duce deuce

crucially were the crucible

replenishing by blood transfusions

anu

ah yes, a new you go

fissioned en fashioned, 2 by 2