Mad Honey
“I take pleasure in my transformations. I look quiet and consistent, but few know how many women there are in me.”
Anaïs Nin
moonlight as we enter
where the ocean meets the river,
swoon and retreat for winter.
goodbyes to dried redwood splinters,
shadows and reflections,
talk of the science of deception...
back and forth, upstream calm
clear waters release the mud
in a still dance that disperses balm.
–dismiss all insults to the poem of my flesh!
itchy, scratchy, wooly, weaving spiders enmesh.
away from the farce, away from the weak,
mad honey– it is rich and dark
because you are trying too hard.
go lightly. licking liqurid memory daintily,
illuminate the multitudes, transform and refresh.
away from the decay of truth
far from bohemian Taylor street,
wait for the break of the new day.
early rhododendrons,
the stench of wet wood rot wreaks of fire.
hung in the air of weaponized uncertainty...
this is where doubt triumphs. doubt is the product!
old voices creak living in disinformation absurdity.
youth know it. the young understand it. they get it!
he took to drink, she miscarried
justice that seems woven even into a new virus.
a wolf has come out of the woods.
on the scales of pangolin tale of an ouroboros
taking its pleasures,
dark money and the science of deception are let loose.
towering antlers, grand, otherworldly,
it stands in the stream this rare moose.
blue eyes flash of lost fireflies
from tobacco to food, rare earth minerals to fuels,
industries corrupt the truth
using denial, deceit, and doubt.
the wolf looked about,
unfamiliar with the safety of the house.
secretive and nocturnal,
in full snow, the moonlit macadam
caught split hooves, forked tongue,
and headed for the bear.
the moose took a twenty-foot dive.
craning heads of a great story
have morning fish and tea,
full of the harmful effects of sugar and alcohol,
seeding disinformation into the body politic of fact,
reach deep for bravery.
deformed workers inhale silica,
spit bull bondice in brass; geophysical,
corrupt polluters depend on the party to neuter.
the moon does not pass the meridian,
neutered children. camouflaged in phony rhetoric,
the moose broke the water’s surface
howling protest. mad honey swam with orcas
and false killer whales listening to the generalist...
mist on lambswool where the bay leaves the sea
take a stand with found liberty.
the stead balanced protection from harm to be fully free.
one deep breath expelled the inconveniences,
now in the heat of the moment sharks head back for land.
tidepooling in the brown foam near the cabin blowing through my hand,
uninterruptedly...
truth decay slips through five fingers talking eternity.
