None Escape the Dessert


How quaint; a maneuver by the Antedeluvians.

A secluded shadow drinks honey between the bleeding possibilities.

“Somebody's been naughty again.” That familiar flavor of vines.


"Lion has fallen."

No matter. Always room for another one, It caresses the replacement.

Sometimes the Raven is the Crow. The Rabbit becomes the Hare.

It still makes all the difference.

"Bring them to me."

It was Sol; the newborn, inconsequential flicker.

They were brought and the lurid rhythmic sounds die

The accused, suffused, obtuse before the True King’s eye.

“You've become my perfect flavor, through times you have become the perfect dessert.”


"If you are a monster; don't let your hunted become one." I challenge with "Capriciousness of summer air."

For Robert Frost.