Silva Regis

Upon the throne of epistemology

Fixed. postured.

Grave center of orbit and web


I reside here, too

But transfixed in benighted groves ringed in steepest rock.


the dark-

proud and anxious fawn

Chased by the dogs of unknown masters


Through gaps you’ve been seen

However blurred in movement

And altered by heated air


Screams from the forest-

I hope rustled your hair.

2 responses to “Silva Regis”

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