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.
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