- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Memories
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a memory of trees wanting to be haunted
rustle shake
leaf-like, silver shaded greens
blown bits in winds and gusts
shapeshift as you’re born
seeping blood with every scratch
heart made bare upon lashing tongues like axes
hefted heavy, quick
swing to your mark and make me quake
i’m here, waiting
i am the memory of trees
you are the haunting
rumors rustle shake
envious vipers no dignity but mine
tear it rip and shred it
flayed and fleshless pour salt on my wounds
i will always remain
so then goes the ghost of the blood
from a memory of trees wanting to be haunted
whistle wind, whip me bare
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