Ivy Cutting Season


Front and center, all

the twisted ivy stretches

into focus. Yes, the

conflict. How green

wraps around. Oh, the

contrast. How things

which clutch you tightly

are most likely to be



Sleep, a blue drop

in a neverending puddle.

Splash-splash, all liquid

turns to slumber. Escape

the monster in the closet,

is it in the mirror as well.


We fear things unlike ourselves.

We fear ourselves the most.


Slash the subconscious, slit

the boundaries, and bury the

ivy under all that once

was ours.


When you pull me in,

I will fall forward past you.


When you grasp at me falling,

I must avoid your vines.