From uncultured to
subcultured, I was made to...
I am the circumference
and I am the center...
Tell me how have these
lilies learned geometry...
Like a virgin birth,
a poem floats...
With winters silent shroud the forest waits
for formless foggy breath to evanesce...
Why did you offer your
eyes, to a non-victim...
The witch-hunt starts
for an unexploded bomb...
A conspiracy of the sort.
This is what I wanted...
The porus mind?
in the vacant chair, thinking...
The sunset drips in hues of blood orange,
Melting into whispers of the softest blues...
Smearing an uncut?
and whole moon on the forehead...
Making them dead?
in a regal way...