TheFeatheredSleep – No power but the truth
I don’t know if there’s hope
When friend turns foe
I don’t know
Where in separation
Yoke and embryo
Glistening placenta gouache
The painter may
Render this potential life
Legacy of strife
In verdant whisker
I could have been born
Elsewhere
Or not
Chemistry
Cellular change
Alchemists with tears as
Coat of arms
We consume tangerines
The smell of orange rind
And cloves
Seasonal with moth holes
Moses climbs from his wicker man
Escaping the fire
And disbelieved share
Their bronze debacle
Lend me the mahogany deep of your voice
Bringing me back
From kimono exile
Remember
I have no power
But the truth
Of nude vanquish
Attributed to
Low lamps, proffered incense
Summoning believers
In thin macintosh bones
We are rubric
To gardens
In the rain
Bird baths for those
Needful of absolution