grass from the day we met
I don’t believe that the great dreamer dreams a creature with such feeling as I, without also dreaming a possibility for the creature’s heart’s desire to be fulfilled.
believe with me, you who will wade further into the swamps of your heart’s stories
with head and body and soul under the surface, and the great crocodiles finished,
I will have returned * to the soul of I
cupid’s dart doth sure sting smartly
in the breast of his first patient
whilst waiting for the tot to reload
his potion causes fervent anguish
if he doth not mercifully strike the horse
he hath only cruelly chained the cart
so may he dispense an equivalent dose
to the one now stuck in my heart
what is a frog prince to do?
unnoticed and too far from his maiden’s lips to make a transforming impression
a tree frog with broken legs
my only chance to walk again will be with legs of a man
I climbed one night to her lofty heights and called repeatedly to her ear. Startled by my unknown voice she swept me from my heavenly perch
in the wasteland flat I flail and croak and twitch,
longing to ascend; in the saving hand of my maiden,
or the merciful beak of the heron.
my only amelioration is the enchanting sight of her in moonlight
and the night breeze carrying her lovely voice to my sun-cracked ears
I know to not struggle against the story
there’s a reason these things came to be
with me so stuck like an infant
and her so inviting like a tree
damn space time.