Tuesday, July 29, 2014

There are Black Butterflies

Tell Me

The black butterfly
left me your letter, many
paragraphs richly
encrypted, a code
of your distant devising.

It opened, popping
like seed pods often
split apart in shiny grins
with green teeth showing.
That left the black print
to shower down around me
in drifting dry piles.

Truly, tell me now.
Tell me what to do for you
to touch your red heart.

‎July ‎29, ‎2014 7:43 PM


  1. Your photo is better!!! Harumph! But mine was that of the actual bugger than stormed my front door. Pretty sure it was a moth, but artistic license was required :)

    1. There are many black butterfly images to be found on the internet. I tend to steal. I am going to pay for this arrogance with another 400 lifetimes here on this madhouse of a planet. I hope I am making up for my excess elsewhere so that they cancel out and more. I am not confident.

    2. The poem is beautiful, and the butterfly too, a stolen butterfly, you know you were the first to steal my heart this way, with black dust

    3. A heart worthy of the theft, but I made you keep it, I recall giving you your heart back. I have always cherished you.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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