there’s a forest known with a wicker scent
woven tree line where we caught the snake
pull a full bottle from behind your back
rinse a clean slate and lay it on the track
                                                                             coal come stain
                                                                             nickel abstain
THERE AINT DAGGERS AT HOME WHEN iT
MEANS THE SAME
when i lean in vain

build a portal out of garden vines
taken on the precipice of hardened signs
stretched out over our memory seams (seems at rest now)
full bent spine over backlit needs (needs to rest now)
CUZ YOU KNOW i AINT LIVING
i’LL BE WONDERING HOW
   entering bow
it leaves
a
  compass stage

you take me back into those dimed up days
long at lasst quartered in century delays
give it two best like the nightlight’s dead
lead me to the outlet where i lose my head
dollars and cents
it kinda makes sense

LABOR FOR THAT FEAT WHICH ENDURETH UNTO
    everlasting
    it leaves
a      compass     stage