"Years go by..."
It is a convention we must accept
of both fiction and life.
Literature operates like memory;
It is most effective
when evocative
and inaccurate.

ideation
she was porous in talking;
each word a higgs particle,
slipping around heavy ideas.
a thing may have several causes;
summing in a synapse.
like neuronal communication,
we are a sum of science & theory.
doubt not the world is a construct of faith,
or you will be caged by your own perception;
another dead cat in an invisible box.

We release our teeth, satiated insects,
blood swollen stomachs
translucent, truculent.
Our words peel away like bark;
Those birches
(from Japanese prints)
were first from nature
and so were we.
Artists names translate
into windows
commandments to seek
their work in life
but our compound eyes are glassed,
and our jaws yet drip.

Primer Printempts
The stirring
virescence
of new grass,
counterpoint
to the impossible
promise of leaves
shooting,
dandelions bursting,
in florid lemon tufts.
All that is crisp
and tender
bears the
burden of breaking;
growth
necessitates bruising.

Blossoms fall not
Showers of soft confetti, flurries of petals
remain eternally per (fumed) + (fect)
"Except a seed fall"
What purpose to fruit?
Nourish our souls &
let the body hunger.

Her veins of moonlight opened
Spattering the stars with milky ichor
The righteous do not taste of death
Only oblivion, the space between constellations
and consciousness.

The maker unmakes,
Who spun her from enforced purity
and cast chastity like chains about the moon
Those who exiled celestial bodies into orbit
Would condemn her for the distance.

She had known love,
And lovers, before the horsemen
Before the jealous hunters
Bound all that was feral & female;
Denied her fullness & left her crescent.

It is her death we mourn,
The moon phased out.
An image of light that was,
Casting only the shadow of conqueror,
Her pale visage trampled underfoot.