September 24, 2014 § Leave a comment
consuming itself in chunks
as it rots sullenly
in the dank of leaves and bark and dying.
This love is overrun
with unformed angry things
un-enamored of its own beauty
trampled by seasons
deeper into the dark leaf slime.
But this love is a forest.
Out of the slime and the dark tunnels
out of the trampled, the eaten.
Out of the rot, the green grows
The forest eats itself
and lives forever.