In the wake of the dogwoods death
Does the woods around mourn in whispered sobs
For it was the catalyst of the point
To where this empire of green
Could look upon to gain the wisdom of peace
Now that the dog wood lay rotted and scattered
On the ground of dead leaves and fox trails
Does the forest tremble in fear
For the chaos to come

Standing on borders
Of all that is light
And off that is dark
Do you see man
Jumping across
Bleeding between two worlds
In his hand he holds bread
In his heart holds blackness
One finger to the sun
And one on a trigger
And before you can see the truth
He slips into the confusion
And we are left afraid

In spring, green along the river
amid ancestral foothills, we walk deer trails
wild in the woods of scented pine
of silver sycamores, silken barked
stark, they pale against bluest skies
their new leaves green and glistening
we are listening for songbirds, for a language without words
transfixed, through this portal, reborn in this world
warm winds speak sweet and susurrus of spring
melodious they sing, leaving far behind
the cold, the dead of winter.

There are fewer things
beautiful than ugly,
I know that stars are most
bright when they fall
from impassioned skies,
That when your skin
meets mine, I am like an
amnesiac being returned
a lifetime of memories.

I hate few things,
except, perhaps, the murky
lakes of your eyes,
The misty beaches we
explored until sunrise.
How you pressed your lips
to mine like a death wish,
that it was deplorable,
but we wanted more, more.

My body was a map
you tore apart when you
got tired of exploring it.
The ancient psalms of our
tongues cannot silence.
Ruins of ancient Rome
survive on your lips, yet
you still live, breathe.
You call yourself mortal.

Taco Bell, my love,
You fill the void in my soul.
Take all my money.