I pierced my heart and bled blue petals that transcended in open air o'er the coconut trees and froze into a purple haze and rained on the echoing green.
Though i would rather have my petals be on the scorching asphalt of lower Bay Street where angels thrive on our poverty so barefoot cart men could walk my petals to ashes
and embroidered heals scorn them to waste. Better than in the evergreen
where blue-black petals beguile the leaves.