"Toad Tree"
Angels of Earth,
Records of the days of yore,
Solemn with tattoos of age.
Seeping with leaves that dangle at the corner of the eyes,
To weep and willow in dusk's fable.
Day's yawn,
A croak in the dawn of wind,
To sway and squeal on the predators of night,
Creaking and crying the blood of life.
Slobbering sap and soot,
Underneath the darling stars,
That twinkle a flirting wink,
To mock the croaks and groans of trees,
And kiss the toads a tease.
To whistle in a dreamy drapery,
Breathless and depthless with please,
And squander the moaning toad trees.
The moon,
But a sun of night,
That marks the paths of scavengers with yellow flesh,
And tatter the eyes of the toad trees,
Which croak with throats of a pronounced bulge,
And mock the toads,
And the stars,
And the moon,
With boisterous tunes of its seed.
-FMG
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