Wondering as I wander with my veined desire:
Perhaps honesty only resides in the lush green carpeting my grove,
In the roughened hides of the friendly giants prickling my finger tips.
Nose filled with the bright muskiness of twilight,
I inhale, deeply.
Surely, it must lie laced in the starry chalice beaming overhead,
Entwined within the pale locks radiating beyond gentle Selene’s cold gaze;
Surely, this celestial scene’s green pulse could explain every living ghost’s lack.


I caress the willow’s consoling embrace before I turn and trip, parting the long dark tresses
As I tumble over some wayside old pine, deformed and forgotten of its former glory.
Crouching in its wake, its shadow steals, sinks, plunges me into its depths.

For a second I un-mute the strength, curious to remember,
But soon crushing numbness hastily creeps in;
My fear of the fleeting potential
From this black in me
Flares.

This brief excursion leaves me gasping- how does your shell possibly manage father?
Has the rot and disuse left you a barren landscape washed clear away in wild waves of

gold-canned beer
And drowned any remaining flowers in the swooning, sweeping swellings of the

computer screens?

Hidden deep away in the burdened wreckage, pearly orbs cultivate amid the dwelling of the feathered thing,
the something that cannot flee with the tide. Mangled, tangled, broken, faded, dull, hungry, hurt-

(but there.)

Anaïs once convinced me I was a mermaid in this green ocean.
Inherently choking in the rayless shallows once,
-I--Me--We-
Dived for my own siren’s prize and now boldly dare this deepest trench
For You were never a great swimmer, I imagine,
And pearls the hardest to come by.

Two colors closer the shade, though marked more by the enemy, a hybrid created?
Not so, for I grew oranges while you grew your grave.

Wriggle your swollen toes and regain the echo of more.