We wore it like a coat that layered empathy
Brick by mason, these eyes did climb an architect’s design
Upon the stony lip coupled forms hung in dangle
Preachers of a starving theory fall bemused to this lucid void
And how could one see this garden pays no pence?
This well has no depth…
We fraying threads fabricate the bramble veil
And every visible seam that clenches shut our noble jowls
So whisper in tongues, lore of the wellspring
Passed the murky mores and any other barren state
Heed illusion with a whim, this caustic dawn forebodes all but the looming slumber
Fishing shadows, the tailor and seamstress wake upon no sea
A puddle rather with the faint breath of a jungle bog
Oh how this hallowed lens did more than mirror a final inception
It shown anomalous to each shifting breed, the moonlit scene:
An opened mouth kiss between the Narcissus –with his idle god the self-worshiping samara tree
And the Gold mouth embodied by a single rank of the fruiting pear
This is our garden, wracked with faithful dichotomy.