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Aug 2015
straight lines
rigid forms
opinions,
point and shoot,
technology

does it show,
the tree running hard
getting nowhere,
reach with naked branches,
oh give me naked
branches, grabbing handfuls
of air and tossing,
***** of air, in the face of
all the other trees,
and none leaves their rooted
ruts, shallow graves,
until a root taps,
deep and discovers...
more to dirt,
like life,
roots crawl, further,
tree, scratch and scrawl
verse, on the short history,
of the existence of
something limbed
and rooted, now
blown down,
as it grabbed
too much wind
too much life
too little
written
too few
roots
soil-less
soul-less
unfinished
story, yet
complete.
Fall guy
Ottar
Written by
Ottar  where you will find me
(where you will find me)   
589
   jia and Leyla Jude
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