deepundergroundpoetry.com

Fever-Dream

I wanted something profound to say
about the wilderness we walked
crooked as snakes.
something in your vicious fang
and the orchards’ fruit;
some deep truth feeding the garden
like subterranean creeks
nourishing the thicket hiding
our joint fever-dream.

Like all carnage, ours was empty.
Dreams forgotten on waking,
all pumping earth awaiting collapse,
hollow fruit.
We were animals basking in
idiot nature, drunken meanings,
howling at nothing.
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