snare is sprung
flesh from the forrest fruit
the humming drum
         of its fright
an untamed meat
          struggles like the life
wirey noose tightly
wrist hook and thumb
ridden to bone
energy shrugged
        in fits of the struggle
defeat
     and then the meat
        is untenanted

beyond the sponge
and spoilings that form my bulk
meat heart beats
but it's not the boast of me
it has tree like dispassion

but then, conflict... 14th / Sept / 2020 / Elsons Crag

The Forest firs sway. The trees bend at the top like sea grass with the tide. Cloud movement strobes sun over this carpet. I view from a cliff.
It stirs rare warmth in my heart half

No !

React under attack. the heart throws up monsters and little stickmen waving spears. violent breathing and horrid garbage and gore and villainous words turned inward and folded and pounded and dough and hurt..

i've turned from the beauty and crouch in a revulsion of balance

this foreign glow cannot be simply experienced. to me, a warm heart is one in need of defence ...as is one in mourning

like the tide withdrawn
a farming hamlet
passes
from a shared day of labor
to face solitary scrutiny
under the night-full eye of slumber

beyond the sown fields lies a thick forest ...