PART ONE Thought, little thought, how I recognize you. You may think me naught, but still I am true. A relic of history worn as a shield, This insipid mystery now is revealed. Twas you who had climbed thru my window those nights, As the rain water chimed off the side panel lights. You came through the pane of my window indeed And toggled my brain with a nectarine seed. The seed drank the tears from the pores of my eyes, And mortared my fears to a smile in disguise. So then when the mask of the fake was uplifted It burdened the task of a prayer for the gifted. Since there in the hymn I could find no tight fit, I just let the stem of the fruit grow a bit. Til at last a sharp splinter pervaded my side, And the slow voice of Winter in solemn replied: "Alas Nectarine, you are he in the breeze, Who laughs with the dead by the pond in the trees. The sand of your breath circles round from the dune And winks upon death not a moment too soon." "Can that be a threat?" implied I of the foe, "For your eyes are beset on the things I will know. And this horrid fruit upon which you profane Is only the root of some Thing in my brain." "Some Thing in your skull?" asked the voice less at ease, "Could it be that a hull has released this disease?" "Oh no, not shell," I replied, "but the core, It burns like a hell, one which none could ignore." The slow voice of Winter stood set to reply When an orange tormentor dove down from the sky That towered above us with yellows and reds And showered then of us, the Winter fell dead. PART TWO Alone once again I felt pangs of remorse For the loss of a friend, I then pondered my course. Alas by the pond & my eyes were like looms, A stitched vagabond there perusing for shrooms. A burgundy sliver was veined through his legs, And strapped bout his liver, the loins of his begs. I thought he could steer me, I thought he had eyes, I thought he would hear me & answer my cries. But shout as I would, he did not respond; His ears carved of wood were submerged in the pond. I asked a green bear to assist with my mistress But his only care was to feast on my citrus. No doubt a bit shaken I sought to foresee Of the future I'd taken intentionally. I chased from the clearing my arrogant leader, "I live what you're fearing!" I laughed at the cedar. The rich vegetation was tripping my feet, To dodge agitation I sought for some heat. The East held the chateaus of chablis & taste But the West drew with plateaus of hot barren waste. For hours I trudged on my path to these lands Til soon my feet fudged on the blistering sands. I tried to cut deals through a scorpion's sector But his only plan was to gobble my nectar. With heat on my brow & sweat in the air, I wondered just how I would ever get there. The bend of my vision could tease me as near, I begged to the Wind for it please to appear. A rush of the stagnancy stirring provided, For me all the fancy farewells were decided. I lifted above all of the dead & decaying, And off with a shove I ahead drifted saying: "The roots of my curse I feel straining to drink, And perhaps for the worst they will slurp what I think, But then once my duct is as dry as these plains, The leaves I have plucked shall grow nil from my brains." PART THREE The moment was magic, my plan was ensured, The thoughts of all tragic fell idly obscured. I winked to the clouds of the Wind I was riding, I worshiped aloud to old friends who were hiding. But then, oh but then in the midst of my glee I looked down within to see where I could be, And then, oh and then with a frightening rave I found that my skin skimmed a watery grave. From my withered capsule, itself dry & burning, A weak silent yell for the blue waters churning Held blind my defiance; I clamored to stay In the air but the plants made my hands give away. A splash, a splunge, a squirt in my nose A splash, a splunge, a squirt in my nose A splash, a splunge, a squirt in my nose Worthless to lunge for the weight of my clothes Put a twist in my spine, exponentially tightening, As down in white twine came tumultuous lightning, A scream from my lungs gargled out in a flash, By the waves I was flung like a smoldering ash. I sought the solution in tiny plaid fishes But their resolution held mandarin dishes. My head started seething; I lurched to the shore. In sand I lay breathing ten minutes or more. I picked up an oyster, I ruined its bed, I sucked in the moisture to nourish my head. My head became bigger with razor-sharp pain As the roots grew with vigor down deep in my brain. I struggled to alter the wild germination, But nothing could falter the dense vegetation. And now in the trenches I stand with the rest With no arms but branches, a trunk for my chest. The world I have trusted to nurture my dream Has left me here mangled-- a bruised tangerine.