Nonchalantly
you rip the smile off...

Loading the twin calyculi
at the dawn. Cotton grass...

The wait begins adorned with symbols
for shadow to fall...

A forgotten truth
lands softly on the wet grass...

No more venom for me. My throat is full
and sore is spurting...

I am selling my age.
Going stone in market. Honestly...

It is.
An explosive denial...

Like a wax moth, me-
sensing your footsteps...

Another?
frozen relationship...

Eyes locked, slowly we drift
knowing or not knowing...

Understanding the poverty
of the earth, the pain...

You were half-crazy
saving little buds...