exhaling brown needles

you may as well know from the start
that i live inside your head. or ummm
my head. there are many personas that people
the walk thru of my day, i have them for guides
and bruise reminders. i have been directed
beyond the boundaries of last night's dinner plate--
blade of communion grass, side of minaret.
wash it all down with a vivid reminder, say a late
summer vintage, peak of ripeness.

intuitively i know the mix to send you
on your way. on your way, you remember
how it was, why you were on the road
in the first place. i do not know
why i am this way now, full of spurs
and bearing histamines, confessional
dumping ground of the hear and gone.
i feel priestly, even. maybe it's the poetry

coming out of my breath, a bonsai rooted
in my lungs, recycling the co2 before it leaves
my body, forming the right words
in an unwilling photosynthesis. the gods

take revenge on my willful no, give me ever
tastier parts to audition for, and lose
at the critical moment, after a bright green burst
like hope just climbed into the limo
smelling of lime. just one last
blast before the pine beetles
eat the hardwood to the core.