Awash with laughter
Yes - I’ve been drinking Irony
But it’so amusing
I can’t stop! We
Blow him up and compare
him to The devil
and cloak him in night’s wings
The reality is he’s just not!
So small; so pink; so moist and wet!
the Harbinger is not more
than just a worm

working the soil
inches from life

just imagine
seeing the water jettison into the sky,
the spray bursting off clouds
mist glistening through air as colors drip between droplets
the base of the water-rise acting in place of the precipice of a water-fall
just before liquid jewels ascend towards the empyreal
and separate into a thousand small gems, each with their own color, their own purpose
to the surrounding Vleiroos at the summit

But We don't rely on water
we grow and bend and ebb and flow with the water rising past us
But we cannot rely upon it
it does not char and burn, nor crackle and conflagrate like our lover does
he is the one who burns us up and blows us apart and turns us from ashes to dust to doxy and expiry all through accouchement

blessed be the fruit
of the vleiroos in the winter
and blessed be the water
given to the vleiroos in spring
and blessed be the fire
that carries the vleiroos through pullulation

Black and White your paint pours from your tongue
And my lips could never go past yours
because I drink the colors
that would shatter you
like rain
through the bow

The morning mist coils about my feet as
the leash tugs us forward, drawn by
four little paws, two droopy ears, and a
permanently flickering tail. A most magnificent
sunrise was beginning to blossom across the
heavenly firmament. Rosy smoke spreading
red and gold through the air, when the
orb falls. Not a slow descent, but a collapse.
Light is ripped from my corneæa, a
whimper educed from the purple
ink in front of us and the leash
lies flat, empty. Clutching my arm, her
fear pours into me, stronger than the surrounding
bleak and black. And she too is gone, following the splintering
of wood and rock as the surround blows
away from me.
I cannot feel it anymore. The constant pull.
I believe it to be
once called
                                                                                                           gravity
because I am free now
I am good morning

A lace wrapping, a soft shoe, fit snug around her rosy toes
Softer than voile, the ribbons snake up her legs, bowed around
her ankles
Cool metal presses against the calfskin coverings
bolted in place, digging deep into the music

A perfect fouetté, and another, and another, and another, twenty-eight
more to go and she's still turning high above the earth, fourteen inches in the air, suspended only by the glistening steel beneath.

The ruffles fly out around her, arms loosely above, hair tight, toes
broken and strong
En pointe, a pinnacle achievement for those in the discipline, yet these points remain out of reach for most
as they dig deep
into the piano while she pirouettes en dehors right before the scarlet
cut

Our first synthesis
photophsphorylation
And our first breath
adenosine diphosphate phosphorylated with an inorganic phosphorus
Growing into something beautiful
primordiums breaking from the shoot apical meristem
You were from one, and I was built of two
of the cotyledon difference
I watched as your skin peeled into the wind
as the sempervirens battles the deciduos
And your beauty withered away as well
Angi never surpassed Gymn
And there we stood
never before so different
And yet never the same