Jae Lee
Shuffled feet make haste
The bay breeze chill cuts through
A mind fog.
A bog.
Like log’s rot.
Wrought with useless thought
Suddenly crinkling under me
A thousand leaves of tree,
Drenched in sanguine red
Burn into the cold slab sidestep
Pigments of leaves, crushed into stone
Five pronged stars, impressed into bone
The ground is alive
It is painted with stars and with fire