disregarding breath is a cousin of death
the praxis of disbelief comes flying thus
through a coughing and gasping hysteria
only there is no death really really really,
the goldfinch has beautiful wings.
a truth birthed of lies if ye follow.
yes memory no memory
through the pierced pellicle
of sun streaks yellow orange
now on the branches of an oak
you can barely remember.
little jimmy beat with a bat,
susie swooned against and wept.
initials perhaps in carving
from a blade now rusted
with a wolf risen emblem
that once you were proud.