by
Michael Steele
| Cresent slat of rope dangled in sea of sky, as a snake skin of yellow light, is shed upon the salt spray mist below. Outraged droplets of water scorch, the midnight vacant shore, and the robust jungle floor. Not the jungle you picture, but one of bailed,laundered money, with mortal sin and greed as a foundation; towered monuments of want not need reach for the sky with hungry leafs. Humanity destroys starter seeds, and real estate is to enthralled, with the ongoings of the elite to even grieve. As a book pressed dandelion, is placed on the closed casket of nature. |
