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nathan-vargo-of-plantsPoems
Sometimes I walk the ground in just socks. So all my socks are made of dirt. I let brambles scratch warrior plants attack It won't detach me from my thirst for community, unity, passion, compassion swells. The rain is welcome here. It washes me dripping clean I am blossoms realizing themselves. My oils are pungent. Sometimes my sisters give me a rash. I kind of like it. Sturdy hands Green-blue thumbs spur my growth Bugs like to crawl into my mouth when I am hungry. The river takes my pain downstream. It sheds glass as I shed. And you gleaming from afar Your silky grace sips my spine licks up my mind and spins me into timeless lifeforms awaiting           the lightning. Sometimes.
0
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
I turn my feces into food. It is a long process.
Sometimes I walk the ground in just socks. So all my socks are made of dirt. I let brambles scratch warrior plants attack It won't detach me from my thirst for community, unity, passion, compassion swells. The rain is welcome here. It washes me dripping clean I am blossoms realizing themselves. My oils are pungent. Sometimes my sisters give me a rash. I kind of like it. Sturdy hands Green-blue thumbs spur my growth Bugs like to crawl into my mouth when I am hungry. The river takes my pain downstream. It sheds glass as I shed. And you gleaming from afar Your silky grace sips my spine licks up my mind and spins me into timeless lifeforms awaiting           the lightning. Sometimes.
Written by
nathan-vargo-of-plants
American
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
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