Mulch Man
I am now
In the midst
of shaping shifts
into riddled bits
of cryptic myths
with oracular mist
from a mystical rift.
For the day
that I intrinsically
invisibly exist.
Born unto a family
of late blooming wizards
in supernatural asylums
with majickal wand bombs
and glistening crystal scissors.
I will turn that leaf—
No matter what’s underneath,
Till nothing is left—
But the skin of my teeth.
Isn’t it weird how I disappeared?
