Angry
Gnomes, Troglodytes and invisible assassins
Converge
at blind-man’s hollow
Heart.
Giant
lush scene-stealing scenic-distemper engorges upon the valleys of lavender
dream-like bursts of brush, seemingly from some planet yet to be named. Tides too famous to appear here and now, have
just come awash. With an ever-alluring,
pinch of crushing adoration, and a fickle sentiment of teenage-type, schoolyard
infatuation swallowing me wholly, the water, caresses in a loving yet
reverential fashion and it has since anointed every inch of me, blanketing my
aperture in a cloud of foam and vegetation.
Vin
number…scratched away
Foreign
symbols take their place
Spiders,
legs for arms, arms for legs
A disjointed sense of ownership
Without a feasible trace of genealogy
Yet
Someplace in the shell itself…
There
must be something, anything
That can help identify point of origin
Why
bother, you might say?
Well…it’s
important, that’s why.
And
I know,
This
probably wasn’t the answer you had in mind
But at present…
It’s all I have.
