A mammoth
                 appears,
       frocked in green.

Like a hologram, the projection is so "real" that a "leaf" looks like "any of the flat, thin, expanded organs, usually green, growing literally from the stem or twig of a plant." The mud's so convincing, when I return home I hose off my shoes!

All year round, a creek gurgles as if it was always been there. But this trout stream was made one length at a time, as the poet conceived it, before he gunned himself down.

Of course the city's trucks, motorcycles, sirens, train whistles, planes overhead...filter through the thickest foliage. And along the trails, dog shit thrives, instead of the scat of wolves.