My Stew

In concert. In swell.
The caring chill it's confusing but
When one holds someone dear
They tend toward dependance
Toward they tend to taking advantage
To taking for granted ward they tend
Ward the bell, the ringer, the shonen
The signal blasts out for
The kotsu, the nijishin
When the bell-warden sleeps
The city, does it disintegrate?
Order requires one soldier
Above all combustible
When powerful change must ensue
Then perhaps it's time to rusticate
To dwell in the the mind in a torchlit cave
On a dew-dripping fortitudinal mount
Half-down where the nightingales's melody
Compliments the spatter of condensation off the stalactites
And albino arthropodae actuate averse of the alien ambient heat.

Give him lots of kisses for me she said
Like kisses for chocolate
Like chocolate kisses
Like chocolate exchanged in a kiss
The dripping of stalactites
The chirp of a defensive starling or piper
The majestic fuzzy pile of the blanket I sit upon
Near the spine of the island

Now it's time for lunch
In the sunlight the noontime sun
Has excited vapor effervescing warmth
Like a vast transgalactic empire
Colonizing the Magellenic Clouds
Like dark matter in the Horsehead Nebula
A steamy cascade ineffably lifts off the treeline

Chamomile sprigs and crabapple twigs
Bear flowers and wild onion roots
And lichen makes a stew,
Sparse but bitterly medicinal.

The city glows brighter
My beard has grown gray
But the bitterness of my stew
Is yet stark and fresh.

Since then
But with the fire wrought
I stay warm
In an impression
I lay calmly and watch as the smoke clears.