Until the Spring Ball

the farms in the bog form an --


archipelago.

the dog barks two times
i go outside to look see
the hungry bear dies

To end a broken star,
Galaxies twist a turn from afar,
Hearts of lions know where they rest,
Upon the lonely plains,
And to end a place, to dream,
Upon the lilies, resting frogs,
A mouse trapped, stinging bog,
As the bird sings and screams.

March do we, along the ash and cyprus
While contemplating natures of the moor.
So very full of life, and also death.

Briefly glancing round, the bog seems lifeless,
To walk so alert, danger life obscures
March do we, along the ash and cyprus

But after observation, I confess
Quite lively lies our grand mud-soaked detour.
So very full of life, and also death.

Every creature here exudes unkindness,
And any of them might our death ensure.
March do we, along the ash and cyprus

Yet still, I find their number in excess
Than places having more growth, and verdure.
So very full of life, and also death.

So now my new perspective does egress
Much different than it ever did before.
March do we, along the ash and cyprus
So very full of life, and also death.

I am a lake
I am full of turmoil and water
There is thick mud at the bottom
All kinds of things get stuck
There are bodies buried inside me
My chest is full of corpses
I ripple with every disturance
Surface tension broken by those who do not lightly tread
I tend to overflow I tend to spread the bog

The flesh flies buzz on the old bog,
Tattered, forgotten in the forest of tainted dreams.

The foul air, in its humid fever,
Carries the stench of death, and secrets between friends.

The muck, thick and rot with fears,
And time too, seems to lose itself in the swamp's embrace.

I love to sit in the bogs
and listen to the frogs

I love to hear the sound
as they hop upon the ground

Their croaks "music to my ears"
it always brings me to tears

The place I like to romp
inside the darkened swamp