I Important, it is that the hummingbird hawk moth and the humble hare heedlessly high-five, unhinged by spring’s lunatic new moon. II Fat book, fed phrases of flower-drunk floating moths and fierce hares fighting. III Hummingbirds reach Mark, as summers expand, so hares pack up for Scotland. IV Hunkered, hidden toad indistinguishable from the foliage,…
Days above, unsure, And patient as a lake, For transition, As a river, from cloud To newly breaking ripples.
Can someone explain How the future seems to work? I peered into a crystal ball And all I saw were swirling clouds. I’m sure it was raining as well.
And Love was in there, Eyeing me up, Like I was its prey. It knew all my soft spots, All my vulnerabilities. And it ate my heart, Just for kicks.
I grabbed the moment. It was soft and pliable But it kept slipping Through my fumbling fingers Like I was catching the west wind.
Approaching whirlwind Will you alter me even more? Will you thrust me forth, Or cascade me into a Blundering collection of loss?
A shining hero Appeared to clear the debris. A profit prophet, Speaking in twisting tongues, Delivering only red.
They thought the land gave them the Signs the were so longing for. But, with the bursting of The Dam, the sheep were scattered Into the forests with the wolves.
The children of the Cornfield link their downy arms And ring the rings from Above, flattened by mischief, Celebrated as gospel.
My quickening pulse Charts a course across dreamlands, My eyes scrape over Landscapes projected against The inside of my eyelids.