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an edible kingdom

There‘s a green man in the marsh
reciting toad talk in iambic pentameter.
He spins in the dapple, garlands
of black widows adorning

his withers, a shock of maiden hair
fern woven in his mane. Bedazzled
scarabs fade within the cinnabar
lips of the sly blossoms at his feet.

The air thick with wing beat sonata,
with ivory bird chant and beetle
tarantella. As he hums his assonant
hymns,  a chorus of falling leaves

fills the air. The inkwater shivers
as if brushed by a submerged beast.
His ancient dance seen on the stone
bones of sacred caves. His many

hands cupping the uncanny genius
of spore, cell, molt and shell. Grinning
like a silver fox he jigs in the wind,
vine wrapped and crowned

with a top hat of cloud. His fingers
pick the cradle’s lock as he looks
away to set new worlds afloat
with a single breath. 


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