Lately, the forest is dank
with mussed trees...

Partly because I couldn't be drawn to care,
and partly because my bed is warm...

Three twenty seven and her head
spins, impaled on...

I'm thinking
of stars that shine...

I've been
waiting by the dip...

Forms are hard, I don't like trying to
*usher my words into something straight, I like...

Oh, my Giant Isopod,
you baffle me, you unseemly clod...

He dreamed of dancing naked
in muddier marshes, how his...

When the tree fell,
the forest didn't cry out...

I blink.
Iridescence coats my inner eyelid...

Irate I'd be, if indeed
'twere so, that thinking...

---
she's got her hands twisted up in a blanket...