is my wish what i really want?
are your kisses really that soft or are my memories unreliable
all this time i was unviable but now the tides changed
if the overcast can fade then so can the return of the grey
my impressionable mind molded by stoic time
the inescapable vines consume my innate drive

twelve pointed hats

lower over the silver pan

of her High North reclusion.

set down.

she stir fries the vegetative

chants of a clockwork coven.

an aroma fills the forest...

the unachievable balance between

decay & delectability.

sallow outer shells of lamplight

shiver fragile lines of light--

to the wall.

hardly palatable to the clam juice

residuals of late light, airbrushed

by a rain even more coy than a

fine mist.

as afterbirth-roots are fleshed out

by a chill, insisting on leaping

backward more than a few weeks.

Winter's yellow hound
snores
bats an ear in sleep
with ancient claws
drool from his gums
pools on his paws
as he yawns
and thaws