Wielding his tongue, a poison blade
He threw his eyes at them
grenades, flayed them with his soul.
_____Not the best way to fight --
Trunks support canopy:
such is the natural
order of things.
______Whence now this monstrous
fog, gray-white, cold?
Its wisps curl everywhere.
______It hangs on shaded air.
Lights hover among leaves,
dip and rise as though
_____to evade the eye.
There is that smell
the wet stench of rot.
A heavy chain grinds
across the parking lot.
Who drags it?
_____Someone
__________breathes.
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