from the greenhouse

it is the greenhouse
the fortress of solitude,

the temple of peace and quiet
the doorway to escape,

just inside, amid the the green
and yellow-striped leaves,

where warm air, sun-splashes
into dancing motes, full of life,

there lurks the lizard master,
the chameleon man,

moving through the wafting wisps,
of heavy scented graysweet smoke,

who can be seen one way
but never from the other,

changing places as fast
as one dream leads to the next,

coming and going as he will
through the murk and dark green swell

of earthy peace, dank and humid
changing, everchanging, then again forevermore.

3-8-86 birthday poem