The East is Not Far

the butterfly appreciates the 13th world

like a fine wine

echoes of lute strings being plucked

in the air

down below, a waterfall

gathers in the frozen arrows of men

like a womb

the butterfly's 100-year-old taste buds

fall redundant on a river of sand

quivering clouds tethered

to a sherbet sky

butterflies trapped in snow

surrendering to winter

the river of sand quells the light

of a candleheart

lipstick-smeared butterflies coursing down a mountain highway

�"the caterpillar is immune to advertising