Writer's Cramp Entry
Beneath A Huckleberry Sky
There is smallness on the inside…
Where the walls dangle from the ceiling
And the Spirit ebbs low
Malodorous and fusty.
Through the dead eye of a window,
A phantom of stone-colored soul,
A smaragdine panorama reflects from outside
Unending and eternal.
A verdant world unapproachable
Pulling my mind outward...
Through the looking glass
Into the fields of diamond green.
Dancing around trees of butternut
Beneath a huckleberry sky
Dripping the seconds unimagined