I enter a voiceless Forrest
quiet
           as after ******

it awaits a wind
                     to disturb
its brooks
          to run full babble
and the creatures
                 to muster bravery
and reveal themselves

Caught unawares
I feel I may have embarrassed it
I shall return later for my walk

life fends its ache in a solid state of lumber
stretches grouted brawn
and sets its stresses on duty

gaseous pollution meets the daylight
a warming flatulence of the productivity byproduct
labour

orb
parching an arc over the brow
and easing an erase into the eve

then to
the night solution
a fluid of festivity
*** excite in arts and the conduct
a canvas of tincture
to suspend our culture
                        in-bedded

the witching hour is only a blink
a jiff and a wink
a humour in the plasma state
break
the process is reignited
and for that brief movement
cleaned out of heads
we are simple
guided

some plants flower at night
blooming
  on the pollinators schedule

tonite
moon reflects the sun fully
city unburdens its concrete
  of a heat thump

some humans take the night shift
some lovers take the streets
hands publicly crammed down each other
eyes full of moon

..............there’s such a clamour
         so much choring
    memory thread
I sit
armchair
rocking head
receiver of motion
    bleaker of putty trauma
                creator of mammary craving

.....best take up knitting or wood carving

the fortress of thought
(in strict connivance with a bewildered host)
compiles the 'person idea'
protects the fragile calculator
               from biting at its own exposed
                  and useless self mating psychology
               from glutting on its own tail 
                   and merry going mad
                        in a tune of hoops...

..stammering to achieve valuation

for our decent management
projector
may you continue operations falser still
defeating our own polygraphs and making fools of our internal courtrooms

i sit on this chair
things go still
thoughts occur elsewhere
am i left to not be ?....................

When the crime is right
      & the devil wet
             the nocturnal forrest is a skin
                     and ceremony thin dreams broach reason
            they poach me with a caustic blooded rash
approaching as nippy darts  ; visions of shard and coil
a metallic eggy rot
                           and pan to the darkness
                                                     snapping electric

        irregular from that darkness
spaces between the trees comb
                      form a hyper hectic wealth of flushes
a blush burst discharges in the body
           booming pulse
          blooming rabidly
salivating to a ******* savagery
a nature to express
       forecast
             within permeable forrest

i have energy amazed limbs
             daring a dance
                       screamin' hole The Frenzy
             dog-shaking the head
legs flung and planted
crushing ferns
             this hefty simian sway
                      a broadcast challenge
             invitation
           a power coward
commanding a matching of kinds
                       excitation
       no longer to be foetal and cowed
             an aching unmend amended
a call is placed
the spell is rendered
    
                                 - resonate