THUNDER FOREST ON A MARSH

In calypso I farthing a sand dollar for a pizzle of drek
Scoping the wind kissed drivel of a succulent retreat
From Reality. My pistons; steam in vaudeville.
Paint on a stoop of crushed suns….
Killing It.

All my thunder-forest, on a marsh.
Peat clouds and smoke nails in my
black palm oil.
suckling an inch from a mile dreamt
at the teat of Stillness.
Stifling the Calm.