the rotting process                  
proof of life  dampens the air
with pine-like fragrance
transfusional breath confirms
      i'm one with the earth

You cut down the forest, tree by tree
to build another villa.
Cut the heads from each blade of grass
to keep in accordance with regulation.
Cut the thorns from the rosebush
to keep it pretty, defenseless.
Cut down the dandelion
to make it easier to breathe;
once medicine, now just a ****.
Cut the boys’ hair short,
cut the girls’ wings shorter,
to make for the perfect family photo.
Cut the native tongue from the migrant’s mouth
to create cohesion in culture.
Cut the stillness of the night
to make way for off-ramps and neon lights.
Cut your health below expectation
for a paper check, riddled with taxation.
Cut your love close
to save yourself some heartbreak.
Cut that which does not serve,
as long as you continue to serve.
Keep cutting away
and calling it progress.

this frozen shore     calls me tourist               
followed by money grubber and whoremonger
  then reckless looter and polluter
names me hazard   and spits on me
it squeaks and whines                                                    
pops bubblewrap   and grinds polystyrene
jarring and wincing my ears
nature has called me out                                                
it fires at me                                  
                      with a list of my species crimes
the pudding's in the proof
and i'm left simply unable to be a recluse
in the company of
                              this frozen winter shore

O’ if the rose were given leave to sigh,
Or if the ocean wept for beauty’s sake,
Such tears would flood the ramparts of the sky,
And bid the sleeping stars in awe awake.
Yet thou, unknowing, passest through the dawn,
A muse unbound, in mortal semblance drawn.

So let the heavens bend to kiss thy tread,
And night adorn thee with her silver thread;
For in thy gaze, this fleeting world doth see
A glimpse of what the soul was born to be.
And I, a poet lost in mortal guise,
Have glimpsed the infinite through earthly eyes.

Though time may fade the bloom from beauty’s cheek,
Its echo in thy light shall ever speak.