Ancona sunset

A.Huey #58 Aug.28/13

“A poem is a phosphorescent instant illuminating time.” L. Ferlinghetti

When the sun is the colour of cotton candy
and about to plunge into the Adriatic
The locals warn it’s too late for Hail Mary’s
They are pretty vague about what it is time for
There are murmurs about, atonement, amends,
much about the consumption of large quantities
of alcohol…when you don’t speak the language…
I went on a visit with a friend to a cimitero;
It was my first to an Italian bone-yard,
where we also set off a number of fireworks,
a custom that occurred at random intervals,
without explanation, and one I never quite
got used to, but did end up finding oddly


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