Down the burrow,
the bells do toll
when the fox has passed,
as the orange stain fades
and the ***** of tomorrow still stifles
the tendril of today.

When I was small
a half martyred critic sowed
the seed, laid waste as a garden grew
invasive purple

and I smiled.

Beneath skin, a tyrant reigns
the royal mouth of seasons, changing.

Eden was a bag of bones,
dust to claim the ruse of divinity.
Don't tell, do tell
when children grow, a ****
flourishes, insanity!  Insanity!

Hear, they're
there, here,
flows a ready current and the sun sleeps,
lightening in the night--
When the tail of today is swallowed

a soil paunch, down the belly,
am I killing time
or is it killing me?