I home, speaks fern
speaks moss
speaks forest low and dank
such gloom is ours
here in the fog
each leaf is veil
veined and greenie,
and then Saint Frost
virgin bride of tapered fingers
virgin bride assassin
Here time decays
decays the bark
here the yawn arrives,
and when the bride undoes her corset
it's high time to hibernate
I spied her while the autumn lasted
a dove, I spied, who spread apart her legs to drink,
and then paused to make alert ---
a snapping branch
across the ages
We home, proclaim rock shucking roots
roots snaking to streams and brooks
all that's underfoot mysterious,
and water that renews the jungle...
heaven's purpose
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