Nonsense

Looking through old files of poetry drafts, I came upon this piece. I do not recall writing it, but the filename was “nonsense.pages.” I have decided it is an homage to Lewis Carroll.

The unctious frighteners do plume
about the myriad and splintered bloom.
From bifurcated orange drunken marrow
emerges the grey unheeded sparrow.
At hated, obsolescent failures bleak
the gruesome phantom dares not blink
lest rend you his undines by claw and dog
then post results to malicious blogs.
Unharrowed soil hearkens to the nail
the respite of gods bled to compost and fail
a garden she grew merely of weed and mint
her hair unbroken and mended in splint.
We should all so luckily skin divest
and heart so vibrantly under, blessed.
Antlered stags the moonlight drink and think
of homes unmade for turgid, irksome mink.
Here lies the secret of ancient black wrens
cavorting orgiastic beaks in glens:
“A victory from darkness must be wrought!”
The pointless battle once more to be fought.

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