Millshake Flavor Vaults

more right than you knew about the split
the crack at the pivot of all of it
the balancing act between craft and art
the muse we nurture in our heart. 
      and yet to rigid rote and science
      our other part must be in alliance
      so to ourself we only have peace
      in your arms or poetry


alone walking in the dark
we feel a pair of friendly ghosts
two other we's, existential host
there's little we on scabby knees
climbing up a big pine tree
and a fractured blur in smoky haze
— even Moon won't show our final days



Plagues of scorpions
crabs and mice and even pecans
who knew these worshippers of Armageddon
would shine the light of dawn
on so many open branches
on the tree of ecodiversity
that they wish themselves (and us) to be gone



to be kind is an open sore
a soft spot in a baby's skull
what blossoms into so much more
so grind the talons and glove the claws
your frantic heart do give a pause
next heartbeat could be our final call
everyone is weak and small



We like your tiny whale, it's true
it small and yarny, white and blue
we imagine it paddling in a canoe
in the Baltic, over by you!



Supremely
the wind whistles keenly
everything has been scrubbed clean
even the bristle scratches have dust in them
over dry cracked sticks you flowed
breaking shattering down she goes
in rearview on the road
Miss Eternal : Never Old.



fish are slippery creatures
by and large it's true
other than that we can't seem to map
a sea hare to a whale fluke