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by KJ Hannah Greenberg




Manchinelle Tree


Flowering plants, ordinarily, brighten bouquets, adorn hairdos, elsewise serve

As handfuls of beautification. Some shrubs, however, like manchinelle, can’t

Offer more than toxic interactions. Solely, such vegetation remains murderous.


In other words, when gathering “apples,” it’s ill-advised to pluck all fruit. Some

Glistening orbs are not user-friendly. Several can taint one’s harvest with poisons.

Various trees are known to issue burnished jade, jagged leaves revealing phorbol.


Mirroring the wrong sort of causal relationships, these shoots offer no solace if

Ingested, no comfort if brushed against, no win while otherwise integrated. So,

Sometimes, it’s best to leave things be, to esteem verdant growth from faraway. 




a line, (a short blue one)



Mendacity at the Demesne


Untruthfulness, especially when given the queen’s gardens, results in dead blooms,

Also, in trees whose neglected pruning causes falling limbs, displaced birds, maybe

Even homeless squirrels or goshawks missing shelter belts’ protection from storms.

Such plants remain worthless faced with strong sentiment, intense sun, precipitation.


Consanguinity aside, regal cousins execrate often and loudly per their seemingly

Never-ending lassitude (there’s no point to tearing up over lineage) or allowances.

Free rides have hidden costs; reigning over populations no longer evokes obvious

Veneration. More so, the ripostes of the privileged hurt anyone within easy reach.


Meaning, from social heights, settled cultural patterns are not readily perceivable

When fixed. While broken, like other unfortunate contrivances, community fungi

Can’t locomote dog-like or to crawl through shallows elsewise toddler-accessible.

Rather, motley followers tend to swarm “leaders” through oddly trodden statuses.


See, secret agencies invigilate royals, yet plain clothes cops climb relegated to pet

Sitting for the rich and famous. Likewise, whereas it’s known that the M15’s pain

Ray activates denial systems, it’s hidden from view that soda cans, not tinfoil hats,

Bring about the advent of dust bunnies, paparazzi, important visitors from Jupiter.




a line, (a short blue one)



Thralls’ Barely Compensatory Rhetoric


Until my usual corsair sailed, all dungeon black with lightless walls, I wrapped

My brain in transpiric damp, meant to saturate every thought and motive. Not

Only wastrels, but state enemies, too, must choose amid lapidation or pirating.


Ostensibly, even after rubble’s resolute tendrils stopped encircling our limbs,

No search party proved judicious or tried to locomote survivors toward liberty.

Currently, civilities stay overrated. Characteristically, citizens often are killed.


So, among lumpen persons, I squat, incapable of limning sentiments, helpless

To emulate nationals. I fail to prosper, to actualize my role, to fulfill my want

To represent, here, now, innovative, influential perspectives and old sagacity.


Upon self-ransoming through dishonest conduits, rather than allowing régime

Bandersnatchi to nibble my toes, my fingertips, and my purpose, I burdened the

Loveliest of foundational thoughts with peculiar expressions of disgruntlement.


As the peoples’ brigand, I can’t leave this oubliette, wouldn’t acclaim slightly

“Important moments,” other methods to verity, no matter how steadfast words

Beckon with harbor. Instead, I fumble thralls’ scarcely compensatory rhetoric.


Even so, it’s not gloom, just stupidity, that abandons this population to ruinous

Outcomes, to going “missing,” to failing to be present for landed celebrations.

No large sum of screeched “truth” ever counterweighs urged but broken oaths.



a line, (a blue one)


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