Celluloid Trances

The bells toll proudly, thru the way in which a street is hazed, flagged with fables, salted from grace. I travel, celebrating the minutes of light, and as I widen my revelations to dress the horizons, as I drive, I spark a bevy of memories, of faults, of cheers, of yesterday, and towards the secrets and whispers that float a star trail apart in the times that lazed here, now grazing there with no matter in between. The sea whistles a poem to be unraveled by someone of a caliber well known to me, as I had reached the waterfront, and the stares mawkishly mock the wind rippling auroele in the spots of the sea below a golden djjay shade, the electricity of stillness disturbed by the play of weather. I had stopped to witness, but now I carry on again, I continue my attempts to attain an attestment that…

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