there are tulips in my tea
veins of greenstone adorning my revery
conditioning my presence in this mountain appalachian
I have traveled the
white pines in my
deciduous accent
breezed the contortions of your
language skin
the soft stalagmites I
rub against with the
other on my fingertips
the rhetoric of flowers we
discourse in
all rooted in the
rhubarb mountain
in some genteel pearl
a gestalt love
wow. i love the language and the composition. only thing i dislike is the presence of "the/ other on my fingertips". mentioning the other isn't out of place per se, but it seems to explicitly philosophical and technical at least to my mind. maybe i read too much.

great work.