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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?

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