BLOOMS & BLOSSOMS

Is there, some derivative between heaven and hell?

Is there, something more probatory than S’s O’s and L’s?

Like purgatory a state; and a hell, of a place.

What does hell have to do with gracility?

It’s the blossom’s motility; the death dance of doomed.

It’s the congener’s divergence, between blossom and bloom.

There is neither of none while they both are cocoon,

Do we admit; virile genders, societal maroon?

Unfolding horizontality; blossoming a plume,

The early dust innately; which stratum, which bloom?

Erstwhile lengthy looms; blooming but never, ever astray

They both have happens; then there’s doom and there’s day.

Thither no amphiboly between blossom and bloom,

Till emphatic interjection commits, the rushing swoon,

Marginocephalia like encounters; it could be a toad,

Unitary blooms boom; and intercedes with blossom’s unfold.

By

William Loggins