poem for philomene long | John Dorsey in a past life the sun invented dance was hunted down and made to suffer the pleasures of women the muse drunk on words while you sister philomene sang with beauty drank cheap wine with pride and invented the outline of god tonight the roman dead stand sentry on the boardwalk while you blow one last cotton candy kiss to your city now being washed out into a sea of dreams and ruins they pray silently may you join the ghosts of venice west for a pint of holy water and a nugget of dank zen a feminine flower set on fire the only god some angels have ever known