A dragon fruit ponders her fine skull,
Flesh roars garishly, seed germinating
Rife with succulent promise.
Rife with succulent promise.
This mere box of a particolored cosmos,
A cooling square
Ready to ambush gargantuan frogs,
Collapsing on everything
The little deaths,
From saint to slug,
Midmorning philosopher,
The little deaths,
From saint to slug,
Midmorning philosopher,
Mothers of demons,
Trains of thought,
Forests are a verdant oraboros
Primal, smoking, orgiastic, still finite
Primal, smoking, orgiastic, still finite
So long a witness
How can it be surprised at an end
That is not an ending any more than
A fruit can be sold for her true worth.
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