A withered soul at the shore of dreams,
It pondered the waves as they gleamed—
Arrays of light, oh, what heaven beams,
Caused by clouds so white they seem
Formed from pearls or angel’s wings.

It prayed for this day to be its last,
For no day shall be worthy as this day will.

No nettles within the gardens,
No ¹needles within the haystacks.

Who made for them new navels
And showered with salted-wine what would not leave us.

Who thrushed through every grain of every chaff,
Picking out & crushing that which was rotten.


We who made the meadows free!


Who liberated they who were encased in ²amber;
Rain, Lightning, Thunder.

Who slayed the ³Fearsome Hydra.
Slew the ⁴Slithering Gorgon.

They who silenced the speaking weeds
And the whispering flagons.
Companions of the ⁵Dragon.

Who caused the Titans to bleed.
Who stitched the wound,
Who cauterized it,
Who bandaged it.

The first of us to understand,
What was the seed.

The chameleon swallowed hard.
Its tongue: hungry and burnt.
Feelings? A privilege of others.

Eyes wide open,
patiently waiting
for the flickering chance.

Who understands nature, unfiltered?
Too painful, without some sweet utopian IF
Nobody understands the vivid mortal chain.

What’s happening in his mind?
The heart - a precise mechanism
clicking down his time to the end.

Changing colors, matching seamlessly—
And what if the only help is calling?
No! Showing his tongue,
he just wants to catch a fly,
sticking her body to his hard palate.
Protein is so good for living.

But she? Her end makes sense
if we observe patterns.
Nobody notices – nobody’s fault.

Can we be a ripe orange
with green leaves untouched?
Or do we become a passing flavor
for other dining creatures chewing us,
without deeper reflection.

i cove my eyes                                   
breathe and billow my way
borne and berthed in dark green fur
it operates   sway of la lune and sea
i hat breath  pat at it deeper and be
                                             silting