I am not me. I hear too much of what other people say to be me.

Peel the comet’s skin
Into the forests mouth
Where trees are coughing out knots

I’d catch a balloon
And set free to the sky
To watch with diamond eyes
And lust with child lies

The heart’s of gods
Made of gold
Are scattered on my lips

Molten fireflies daunt the poised embers of cancer fire
Chlorophyll is glowing
Spoiled are the rots in the larva casket

Sensational paws nettle the log belly’s chipping sheets

Gypsy moths barbarize moss decorations on the forest face

Graffiti animals are feasting on star flowers

In the animal imagination, strawberry thirst lingers

Here, the buffalo have gathered, tempted by the living harvest of buried planets.

Put on my honey face mask
And sit behind the sun
See silver lined harmony
And a noose of diamond eyes

I’ve been dreaming

To throw a bird at the sky
And watch it fall
Into a pond of stars

For each hole in my tongue
To be occupied
By the milk of the sun

Boiling a death proof to be well
Yes, I’ve been well

The amorous remedy likens the lie
That you should be here

Forever maybe, I’ll hold as rust