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neth jones Sep 6
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our noses huffing   our eyes flirting out
             vetting the loose night air
a display of yearning   we did a grand deed

a mammal slain at our heart
   and we are the wrecking children  
we killed ourselves a deer
   ( no   small   thing )

flashlights propped in nooks                                                          
open the prey for dressing    we decorated a tree with the task
                                                  slings of intestinal tubing

open prey for dressing            
                 vocal prayer for the ****

praise the attributes that we ended            
                             the characteristics we assigned it
live meat in perish   organs   adding moist hot breath
                                                 to a waking cold night

after our butcher act                                                
after the parcels and beast are stowed                        
amongst the trees   we take off as phantoms in touch                
'to ourselves be sacrifice and yet return'   is somehow the plan

winds pick up                                            
                            and cold rain drives sideways
leaves of the bushes                              
                  flashing fish silver underbellies
a fleshing thrill combing the trees
an urgent spirited excitement

back at daybreak                                                        
                             we skin off our leather grip slippers
remove our party plate masks                                      
and  in the irrigated mourning grass          
              wipe our feet                               
wash away our tread and our threat
Lyn-Purcell May 2018
Mysterious wood
A large, surreal petal sleeps
near my golden pen

Open near woodlands
A beautiful, soft bird sings
under the lotus

Shining afforest
Special aged waters glide on
in spite of the calms
It's so weird going through my journals from a few years ago.
These haikus were scratched out
Theodore Bird Feb 2015
Bare feet torn on muddy grass.
Blink slowly,
     feel the wind between your fingers.
Tilt your head,
     offer your throat to the sun.
Laugh,
     make music with the birds.
Run as fast as you can,
     stop to sing with the crickets.
Wander slowly, close your eyes,
     feel the sun play symphonies on your arms,
skin speckled with the light of every star.

— The End —