A cluster of leaves claw
from the edge
of addict’s branch,
thin twigged,
with infantile hooks
that latch deeply
to the milken veil of both
breast and sky,
in flux.  

Synthetic shades
of evergreen, draining
intravenously
by touch; its prints soil
cloud and linen
soaked in first blood
then ink.

First blood and then ink,
rustles the leaves,
brittle like knives
the spine snaps
by whim
falling
in through Venus
on to the thickets
and death.

---------------------------

for those wondering where i disappeared to, i have got a full time job so my time on line has become very limited, also my muse been missing until Martie helped me to find it. THanks again Martie

I used to make phantoms I could later chase images of all that could be desired then I got tired of counting all of these blessings"h.devoto magazine

It's so nice
to wake up in the morning
all alone
and not have to tell somebody
you love them
when you don't love them
any more

R.Brautigan