no title yet...

You will notice that I am not -
as you are, be prepared to listen.

I was born in my mother's shadow time,
when my parents stripped of riches

ventured out of time, a baby in a basket,
the not yet born, the negative kind.

I can the Dandilion seed in air -
a parachute, the potency of Pan.

The genius of things to come, known
and unknown. You'll know me by
the strangeness of my speech.

The way I spin the lexicon to catch
the thin life that courses my veins.

Literature is a Peony scarlet;
double petals, a surge of pink

in a tower of Babel. I'll welcome
light, and keep the home fires lit.

One day to step up, freed, take the helm
and thinksay the words that take me home.