• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 08
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Genuine Calibans all,
We slip between cedar
Branches to spy on strangers
Invade sandy beaches,
Insist desolate areas
House crimson thoughts
Appearing as deep rouge on
Furrowed, flushed faces
Where lips pout like
Pursed valentine hearts
And wool pen stripe suits
Challenge crass humanity
With wilderness civility,
Savage ingenuity.

One empathetic tear drop
Like a lone eco monster
Rolls down an organic cheek
The Damp journey awakening
Even Aubrey Beardsley’s
Evasive peacocks, irreverently
Undeniably, ignoring baby-blue ferns;
All senses on edge watching,
Listening, hand held ear
Harkening dualities demands;
Propriety reduced to the
Sight and sound of
A falling hat.