Emerald

I’m the character of my lonely myth
Slippery trickster out on his own limb,
Trying to bud bloom leaf out into words
That roll the light up in their sleeves of green

This, a propos of just nothing at all,
Which is leisure to happen to observe
What we call feeling that names will not tame
All the letters’ lassoes come up empty

Yet there is this, which is not a bother,
Not a chore but a thing that’s less and more
Proclaiming namelessness as my vain name 
Me, non-elucidating oracle

All things run their course, so babble bauble
Comes to a close, emerald of air