There is a thyme
wizards give
as visions in sync
with godless Time.
Among those flowers without
hills of evening
hauntings -
glades within grave doubt
The phantom flora
of once alive flowers arise,
roaming dark daisies
evergreening with
the lecithin plant eye
All aglow,
as light at night,
deflowering the blooming
dayeseye in fright.
I was honored that this poem was published in Harry Morris' famed and justfully earned zine, "Nyctalops."