TUNDRA KNOCKING

Nightfall was soft spoken. But my shadows were klink breathing.
Glass hopes jostled in the wind. My fairy dust; boulders than Colorado.
I ate teardrops from a crying pumpkin; swinging it’s Jack O Lantern-
In an absolute Palsy, full of unrequited Poe. With an Ichobod-
For a ghost.

It was like the Universe was helping me dump something heavy-
Into a Well. Where the Jill’s Jack a comet’s speed to a conclusion
In a field of briar poppies. It was like the dimming of star
In a bucket of scars; but tundra knocking
On a gothic bliss between tantrums
of absolute harm

and Love.