the name i got from editor Noel Villaflor and his almost-hysterical text messages....
i wish i really were a sniffer of wet earth,
an almost-liquid non-entity
that feeds on innocent soil;
moist, suddenly corrupted by a scatter
of wilting leaves
and broken twigs
that fall even in mid-noon;
heated. was it not I who called
to them that fall
and plague my bed of coarse dreams?