Reptilian Poetry

Prefect

Like the autumn season
the stars light us,
as we walk, alone,
apart,
and the stars will not guide us
together in their dark quiet.

The weeping willow
turns its face upwards
in the cold wind.

Mistflower

Lying in silence
as if to speak,
softly,
in some way.

Lying in silence,
as if to speak,
softly,
in some way.

Lying in silence,
as if to speak,
softly,
in some way.

Path

In the mist,
the wind blows softly as if listening,
the wind blows, though none
ask where.

Silene

Does it speak
if you do not?

Process

The morning star
whispers softly,
then fades out,
to nothing,

as the process of art
should.

Tail

Pretentiously (?), the tail
is left.

The reptile moves away,
you find this.

Like a starlit crucifix, like Rome in years BC,
the tail is left here,
quietly.