Untitled Note


a temple to greenery

a sun in heavy mist

sultry through the grasses;

an angel,

a witch

to be avoided by all reasonable measure,

but reason, itself,

is amiss

and we are shouted at,

wanting for troves (or one)

of rest,

where the wind may carry one

next door,


but in the journey,

peace is made in great quantity;

as much as I'll ever need,


until I am done for good.