Nose-Dive

[Manne]

Matchbox hands and a scent of phosphorus.
Oh Green, make me Black and tear asunder
Dried veins and creaking skin;
As fall departs and winter impedes.

A mound of decay quick turns to ash.
Breathless airs lap lightly at gentle witness,
Solely gazing with nothing in possession,
As winter impedes and fall departs once again.

Listless wisps of breathless myths;
Green-held Beauty, uproot these last years,
Mire it in a second's short shush
Within ravaging age's grasp.

 

[(Wordy)]

I love your work.

Whenever I read it, it's like I've been handed a lovingly-rolled spliff from a stranger. It leads me into a lithe-minded state with its subtle observations and allusions. Everything slows into meaning.

I think you should compile your stuff into a book, and call it 'Greenstate' or something. I'm sure there'd be a market for it.