PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I.

Black rabbit

You make me kneel

in the dirt, in the silence of towering

trees whose leaves don't start

for meters and meters and whose

branches are ramparts, twisting, concealing



twitch twitch

so precise, so consistent

black rabbit

that I don't dare envy

this

and I expect you to dart

but you're unmoved

I'm impressed with you

and discouraged at myself

still, I am

still, you see

but ready for

darting

        but there is

no darting

       from you

as you stare at -



looking around

you are, I feel

disinterested

in me

I can't stop thinking

you are



unmoved.







II.

Moth, do you see this?

a perverted scene of knighthood

where a nose is a sword

and these trees, columns

rising towards the boundless ceiling



Moth, you're a fool - recognize

such sadness, below,

your wings, cloudy, sluggish

with a deadpan face that

I don't blame

when your mouth, elusive,

is so easily forgotten



I am sorry, Moth, I feel guilty

I long for a better companion

or at least one to absorb the lunacy

before us with,

sharing a popsicle

with a rocking chair



Moth, you are celestial

in your own place, beautiful

but I'm leaving you

to move closer still

on this scene

below these leaves like the hands of strangers

stars, as they twinkle and soothe,

don't make good friends



III.

I can't be bothered

with your feral nature

that plumes like smog

around the bases of

tall tall trees.



why do you insist

on showing me

the beautiful

and the useless?

I won't listen anymore,

or at least I'll say as much

since I have no say at all.



Your smokey presence seeped

over and under

my eyes;

forcing me to

rub rub rub

and cough.



I opened my eyes when

I thought I was rid of you.



But what you showed me -

    one, dying on the forest floor,

no one ever told him the meaning of life,

    and one, meloncholy chirping on a branch

"She still haunts me."



IV.

So deep in, I am,

that looking left

is identical to looking right,

and looking up

is no longer like seeing

oaks as towering kings

that make the clouds

their bowing subjects,

but being at the murky base

of a deep wooden vault that was

not meant to be broken into,

and therefore has no way out.



The best course of action now

(or maybe my phantom just convinced me)

is to dig

down

just a little

and be eaten by the leaves.



V.

Black rabbitt, minister

unholy bunny -

it is not clear

whether you created this place

or just named it

or made it submit

to the tips of your dangerous

paws

to your fur, a field of heath at night

to your tail,

twitch twitch

a warlord's cry

to your eyes, unlucky marbles



How can I

keep myself from unraveling

after what you've shown me.