Fern Canyon Revisited (For Morgan A Neiman)
Your eyelids quiver like damp butterflies
Opening their wings to reveal haunted golden orbs
Portals to an enchanted land your mind creates, misty castles forged from the sands of imagination.
Your soul- a grainy beach receiving the turquoise waves that tumble
Filling your gasping mouth with saltwater.
May I enter your handmade garden? Overflowing with ripened berries, buds, and redwood bows bending in the breeze
This oasis that you visit secretly locking the rusty-gate behind you, throwing away the key.
I will meet you in that garden, and we can play together, feasting from the vine, letting amethyst juice runoff our chins
We can roll in the meadow near the blackberry bushes, absconding from the world unnoticed.
Munching forbidden mushrooms that sprout underground, sailing on their polka dot spores awakened, splashing with shiny sea otters in the foam, grazing with Roosevelt Elk on emerald pastures.
Soon the flesh will decay from our bodies, and our bleached bones will entangle duff and clover.
Still we’ll dream of our days in paradise, where the breakers reclaimed us.
*This poem was started ten years ago, rediscovered and reworked and is presented with gratitude and love.