from Walt Whitman
dark—
navy blue
full of waters
full of air—dusk, rather, from the explosion
inside her
—she silhouettes—
a dream she is
inexplicable.
letters don’t fit
her inner matrix
jungle woman
kicks up dirt
to think. you had it good.
shattered madula, only the spice
but long, full, life
in a trans, in a focus
she chooses to heal for love.
I’ll give you a
“catch” phrase:
chase a dream.