Blackberry Winter Mornings

I know the past
She fears the future
We touch the present

A heart weighed w/ envy
Two minds dulled by drink
& spirits unduly composed

There’s a reserve on her soul.
The debt is due
& must be paid

Sad Amelia

Come back in
feel the sun on your nose
The iron roses bloom

Live stream your dreams
The Judge
awaits a testimony

The burning brook
has breathed new life
into the loam

Do you feel the mycelium grow?

Therapists act
like clerics
as they poke holes
into thick air
& shed stiff skin

Remember how you bleached
your jewelled hair on those
blackberry winter mornings?


Don’t take the dive
The vegetable summer’s arrived
Listen to the gardener scream

Witness & lover
to her twilight
I wish we weren’t so alike

She has nothing
more to give & no one
to provide relief

Her body is warm.
Upright. Silent.

Her matted blonde hair
Her coarse weathered skin
Passing through the storm

She has pledged to drown the muse.

I don’t know if I am ready.

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