Works by Jim Petiton
the forest has run offal textured.
it hangs death, loosely contrasting familiar colors.
let us wallow reminiscing,
for this revelation,
brief though it is,
nonetheless speaks for all our despicable kind has created.
rejoice and touch the mundane stench.
in harmony, this forest is yours.
nightfall tomorrow draws upon yesterday.
in beautiful symmetry: no hellos, no goodbyes.
this soul aroused belonged to you
the moment your form , in my name, kissed my eyes.
alas have you come and delivered today.
your scent recognized, my heart is purloined.
the poetry of past. present, and future,
in rhyme realized, having always been joined.