The High Fey (ef)

In tentacles of shade
hyphae
dark and narrow tunnels
underneath the forest floor
a fairy ring in mushrooms
a web of eyeless parasites
supply a mouth or opening
at the cavern’s edge
a firefly lights a lamp
in meadows to mark
the dancing of fairy-folk
hy·pae·thral
under the open sky
without roof
temple
asexual spores
interested in or engaging in sexual activity to an abnormal extent
blessed with an exquisite gift of touch
like squid in the water
oidium
like the worst writing in the best of ink -
come the elemental basics
into the sylvan soil they deeply sink -
a threadlike part of the vegetative portion of a fungus
to touch infrequent visitors
with a forever leisurely life
and soothing lines of decompose.

If I Didn't Like You (ef)

If I didn't like you,
I'd replace your voice
with the ticking of my watch -
held romantically close
to my ear,
covering the meaningless conversation
on my right
with a metronomic awareness
of wasted time in flight -
a comodity
more romantically precious to me
at moments
than you are, my dear.

Finders, Keepers (ef)

The safest place in the whole wide world
for something that you’ve wanted to hide:
your mind, floating in its impervious tank,
waiting for your secrets, waiting for your truths.

It’s sleekly coiled barriers, it’s rippled shank are proof
your mind has a pocket for everything it’s told
for safe-keeping, finders, keepers, to have and to hold
no burglary to brace against, no need for wires or defense

No thief has ever returned from the burning darkness.

Go and drop every unbearable memory in its well,
it waits – lips expectantly rolled, wide, down in the mouth
white stones, like teeth, wait for terrible things to happen.
Each one stands straight, each one a sentinel, bright and cold.