Phantosmic Heart

The green galbanum armor is back on,
as the option to forget it is gone.

The amygdala’s easily hijacked,
but afterward there’s not much to unpack.

Like the rose and its thorns, feelings can be
so clichéd; but aren’t they, too, currency?

Always the fear that something’s slipping by,
but what? I never have quite enough thyme.

I miss, on days that seem to have no end,
the wisdom of dearly departed friends.

Like resins that bleed from a wounded tree,
written words conglomerate out of me.

2 thoughts on “Phantosmic Heart

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s