on the explicitness of the olive trees and of pike who are ready to adore you.

[hummingwolf]

Tonight I was careful not to prompt HAL with anything at all, wanting to let him speak freely as MegaPoMo winds down to its close.

I bring you a fair warning:

this kind of perceptual confusion
my own best claim to glory.

Indeed. Though I must say you've been doing a good job of teaching your perceptual confusion to the rest of us this month, HAL.

Huge snowflakes dancing down,
will win out over ignorance and hate below
like a gilt porcupine--
the end of the will-o'-the-wisp
to alter its course.
of all this
as last year's bitter loving must remain
some dance to a heart unclad,
and loved the pilgrim track
in his frightening mask
cracked by storms of a cloud,
i am used. I am a tree house
where no one cares to fake.
i want a perfect life were a material.

what were the glad thanksgivings, the old-time families knew
but sometimes i wish is to arrive at your feet,
fear of wolves.
we may still live as tender valentines.

Okay, I want to say something about this one, but I end up only quoting bits of it instead. It... I... no, I'm speechless for now.