All the trees might be dying
Aborted for shutters of pine
Ingesting spores which travel westward
She will always be a vacant figurine
I dolphin kick with vertebrae of opal
Growing like a boisterous lily
All these ancient trees are dying
Processed by misers highly consequential
Molten brass deals lopsided light
I tunnel into the productive earth
Like a fiber-optic worm, freeze dried
A lily fueled with personal belief
These trees will die, hanging in sorrow
We are stringing up the terrified future
In the single pane glass my cheeks are wet
I've been found, located drunken
Allergic to speaking vegetation
And persistent liars
11 March 2009
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