the chrysalis
broken drought
silent rebellion
ghosts of the living
atom to the planet
girl called novella

the regretting tree

the regretting tree
stands in a field of incongruity
arms outstretched to azure blue
as if beckoning the fall of fruit
rinds disintegrating into clay
as dust, appearing
she comes from a hollow
dressed in what I have to tell...

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she said something and i turned away
her words shivered through me
though with a fire inviting me to stay
all her words were spoken from a mouth full of spice
she had the honey, a promise kept
shaped on lips of raspberry ice

and when thunderstorms cracked about the walls of her room
she may have even wept sap from the initials of a romance
carved into skin and soul, as she strained to touch
i strained to touch, so she turned to someone else
crimson apple on her nape suggesting the presence of him
so i went from that orchard, with my tongue as a grub in tequila
withdrawing to the core, becoming a moth in a wardrobe of words

the great illusion died
the moon became the sun
from beneath me her shadow dried...

the regretting tree
stands on the hill blooming before me
shooting pistils at heaven's door
while below, within its cool shade
i feel my mind opening as a pore
as she comes again from the hollow
breathes in the dirt, kisses a seed on my palm
then smiling, disappears

…fruit rinds disintegrating into clay, all the tomorrows beyond today

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