and if i come to

1 Nov

and if i come to terms with myself tomorrow from a floating

blur bouncing between dust bunnies

floating ethereal brisk like may to the date I was born into myself

and may in my dissent and return

may in my motions torrents of whirlwind spirals

swirling circular round branches bursting with the

fragrance of musk and dignity, maple and mahogany,

mari-golden magnificence manifests

queen dome hill- omniscient, luminous-

tumbling vines divine pregnant burst bus and fruit buds and luna flowers

a temple sacred keep-tress of mystery mirage in retinal presence

underneath her stem hatched wardrobe  archives  time and memory

layered sedimentary listening to the wail of the unseen unheard unwanted unknown

tree, that infamous stranger, forever falling, falling, falling

dead before dying, failing to THUMP and never to hit the soil

smack like face against asphalt, faking purpose in the meantime

and that is to say, eternity, as falling is dying state of the sound

remains the echos of leaves maniachaly laughing

resound in my head only my head alone.

coated with

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