crimson tear in a sea of white

disinegration by emptying context while chasing a near full-bellied Moon ( a mid-summered poem )
she's laughing all the way down
that hat silly rabbit hole
wings wed western whole wheat brown
with the grasses high, folding whispers
into worn heat excavating buttered pockets
quicksilver lockets where love's tongues hold
hope, the smallest of sanctuaries
cell divides Pandora knew to hide box topped
hinged wear will and your body burns,
a sinner, thinner in paper monuments weight waits gold in subscription
dust to dust or whatever ghosts can crust
digging their fingers
grape-vined remembered
clung, dismembered in the rain
bones redden what we read
when time passes on by,
pieces of us, of what we can let go
and basket the morning in the tides with 3 am stolen for its leathery skin, smooth the way stones are like comforting thoughts when worn with water in constant conceptual misty milk fed winds...