lanafitz - Hello Poetry

I, too, lie below the mountain. I nod my head to the alpacas, And I bow to the mountains.

0

Sep 19, 2016

Sep 19, 2016 at 5:32 PM UTC

lanafitz

The Skull pt. 2

I, too, lie below the mountain. I nod my head to the alpacas, And I bow to the mountains.

3

I sat criss crossed on the top of a rock before it tipped, an alpaca spots me from afar. I see his brother bathe in the dirt, his cotton ball fur soaks in the Sun, rubs himself with the color of the Earth, squints his eyes and whispers to his brother – This is a disguise. The fresh mountain water streams below me, dissolves into breeze the hillside crumbles where it was once cut and layered with stones ripped out of the ridge but now the Earth is taking back her natural shape, round and wise. This was an Inca trail, after all. I ran into a human skull. lying beside it was, a fresh bouquet of flowers a box of lucky strikes, a few empty water bottles, the skull was fairly ripe and to this day it haunts me still, that skull that whispered – This is a disguise. Yet even amongst the plastic residue, the burning embers of the holocene, the battery acid in the belly of my backpack, I looked to where it would squint its eyes, and It felt ancient. Corn fields that peek from the tops of these hills cower beneath a great mountain that speaks through symbols sculpted in its face, I squint my eyes – This is a disguise.

0

Sep 19, 2016

Sep 19, 2016 at 5:32 PM UTC

lanafitz

The Skull

I sat criss crossed on the top of a rock before it tipped, an alpaca spots me from afar. I see his brother bathe in the dirt, his cotton ball fur soaks in the Sun, rubs himself with the color of the Earth, squints his eyes and whispers to his brother – This is a disguise. The fresh mountain water streams below me, dissolves into breeze the hillside crumbles where it was once cut and layered with stones ripped out of the ridge but now the Earth is taking back her natural shape, round and wise. This was an Inca trail, after all. I ran into a human skull. lying beside it was, a fresh bouquet of flowers a box of lucky strikes, a few empty water bottles, the skull was fairly ripe and to this day it haunts me still, that skull that whispered – This is a disguise. Yet even amongst the plastic residue, the burning embers of the holocene, the battery acid in the belly of my backpack, I looked to where it would squint its eyes, and It felt ancient. Corn fields that peek from the tops of these hills cower beneath a great mountain that speaks through symbols sculpted in its face, I squint my eyes – This is a disguise.

34

The night we met I was lifted off my feet legs dangled from your back porch dangerously We said some things I can’t remember, but your grin it reminded me of Siddhartha, that part at the end When he sits by the river and lives just to live you smiled and I laughed, the perfect introduction It’s rare, I think, to know a moment so well I didn’t know that I knew it before I could tell That night on the porch in the misty dew, I thought – rivers must grin back at you too.

0

Sep 19, 2016

Sep 19, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC

lanafitz

rivers

The night we met I was lifted off my feet legs dangled from your back porch dangerously We said some things I can’t remember, but your grin it reminded me of Siddhartha, that part at the end When he sits by the river and lives just to live you smiled and I laughed, the perfect introduction It’s rare, I think, to know a moment so well I didn’t know that I knew it before I could tell That night on the porch in the misty dew, I thought – rivers must grin back at you too.

10

A thousand tiny little lines in the waves its in the curl and your hand draws them see me there I'm the girl who fell behind I got caught in the tide

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Jul 9, 2014

Jul 9, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC