i’ve heard words say, “Eyes are
mirrors of a soul”

en cap  sulated  minor  miseries

          EXPLORATIONS in spaces
          With traces of fizz . . . & FIRE

F. Scott loved Zelda they burned
          one sordid flamin’ trail
never re-gretted nor forgetted . . .

Gatsby saw the lite in the fog pretended
          to be a Blue Blood
pre-tended to swim sin bubbles

          bloated on a sultry dream . . .
                         drank too many to float