Wolf in the Garden
Wolf in the garden, feast on tomatoes, rabbits, organs in your teeth. This haze in my throat a belonging fog I can’t cough out. I want to reach for ruddy crescent mud moon to hang on the wall of forthcoming transformation. You appeared rain and branches, strutted into town with horsehide in your mouth– a grave to majesties, a purple-mountained pride. On a Zoom Call with the World the crows are stage left with nails in their beaks it took centuries for modern civilization to collapse but it is happening now and we are all here for it looking toward the future (naïve to hold a telescope) I see ants collapsed just outside a giant mound of peanut butter powder coated in poison we were feeding ourselves (and we fed so long) with words and power with which we chose to destroy ourselves and we are all here for it drowning in the rising seas Playing Keyboard Is Self-Actualization I am imperfect and so are the rose notes my Yamaha sings. Plunking plonks into the righteous air to no one: I play an ode to myself in his fumbled slinky-staircase song. I need a place to make mistakes when the audience plugs in to my heart.
Flight of the dragonfly 