rise raze serpents be gone (seconds out little snake in the grass) loose-limbed and limber (disarticulated fed a fever) say something evil and smile sighing pomegranate priestess spiced to sell the clothes she's in patio enclosure salesman thinks his torso is a tin secretive in rabid twilight let me up and let me at 'em 150214 ... ovenbird “What rises insists on its form” -Annaliese Jakimides My body is going to seed. My heart is a clock of cypselas, susceptible to the slightest sigh. The roots no longer feed the bloom yet there is something transportive in these days of lengthening shadows. I am carried on the most delicate pappus, parachuting into a cobalt expanse of sky. I wish, I wish, I wish I whisper, and I rise. 250608 what's it to you? who go blather from