Though inaudible, I will
hear you- clear and distinct...

The night poem
crucial...

The tremors. One day
I would know. The trees are walking...

In being and unbeing
I come to you today...

A single line,
undefined, hangs...

There was obsession, to wash your
hands again and again...

Yes it is descriptive only,
the unbearable pain of denudation...

Xanax in the blood
screams...

The tall, dense, tree of life
divides the culture, ages...

No it will not work.
The amalgam of arrival...

A near cult glows/ on faces-
for harvesting peace...

Understanding-
the sexuality...