to serve and preserve


they cut down all of the trees, the

bushes, the crawling ivy and

delicately curling sinews of

grass and time. the birds

are calling to each other,

calling to us, looking for

their homes. i am still-seeking

a space: a quiet-green

carapace to call my own, to

borrow in this brief

breath of time. who needs

a throne when you have been

given all of the vast-purple

riches of the universe?