The Ghost of Chocolate Rising

I am the ghost of chocolate
rising from a spotted landscape,
my elongated dark head
longer than any configuration of bones
could support.

My open mouth sucks a light brown liquid
into my milk cow body,
storing reserves in the single leg
that reaches deep into the earth,
the half-eclipsed moon of my toenail
resting upon powdery soil.

I am the froth winged witching bird
flitting through the dusky shadows,
singing a song that is carried
in encapsulated particles
over mountains that look
surprisingly like the silhouettes
of creatures that once passed this way.

I am the spirit,
who emerges feet first out of the birth canal
into a pastel desert
with receding distant horizons
and the wispy breaths of the expired.

I am the sheep
encircling the pond of reflected sky
with my single big horn,
my body my vessel,
sailing towards whatever whims
take my fancy.