the devil's picnic

your soft voice
in the nocturnal forest

where we were surrounded
by the feeling of trees

black shapes shifted
in the back of the woods

a lot like sendak

and we layed our items out
on a blanket
crafted from hair

a breeze snuck in
from someplace


and the animals
were taciturn

you showed me your wares
and i was astonished

a yellow moon hung above us
slowly filling

with ominous orange

and there was no one around

not even the small breathless ones
that carried us there

i think even the grass was asleep

and you poured me the potions
from your travelled cup

and i drank them

thinking nothing

nothing is so unbearable as

being strange