We snuggle down for the cold
joyous greed and mercy
in carols of nebulous infinite love
and slaughter
where Biblical Yin-Yang
produce branding codes
tethered to12 layers of selves
half of them lovers
half of them trees
unnaturally used for torture
and cartoon sweetness.

gelatinous cauliflower magic
constructs reality as a river,
illusion with no legs
where everything is wet
and not one drop matters more
than another.

Trees with holes
leak sap eaten
and recycled by birds
who nourish life underground,
life that eats our death
when the coffins rot
and what we thought we were becomes
feces from thousands of worms. 
Belinda Subraman has been writing poetry since the 6th grade and publishing since college. She had a ten year run editing and publishing Gypsy Literary Magazine (last century). Six of those ten years were from Germany where she was a Bohemian outcast among officer wives. She edited books by Vergin' Press, among them: Henry Miller and My Big Sur Days by Judson Crews. Forthcoming from Unlikely Books: Left Hand Dharma: New and Selected Poems.

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