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#woodlands
i watch you counting yourself out                                                              courting little pets of body-parts putting pennies on the trinket shelf             talking with wending wordage                              about those gruff fellows who've been pig-holing    about your dwelling that day  you manage a back window                                              and escape                             masquerade yourself  as a gentleman but they sniff at your aromas                      these men in crude season they circle you hinge-hipping as you fleet the roads and fields                         and evade  into the dappling woods "come on out  we have you surrounded"                               (you say  they say) you stay  crossed legged   a monk among trees (these pleasing defenders)                                 you take off your dress  and string it             from one of these trees you dole yourself out                         little pets for the undergrowth            you offer a curled shrew from the space   your kneecap once                           occupied you droop your warm left breast and drop a beast from that cove (a plump vole clambers  fresh and                         disorientated) you plug one arm into loose soil                    and the fingers snake root separation at the elbow                               and branches sprig out both your thighs   animate as fox cubs your ***** leaves from between                                            and slinks under some ivy your hair fiddles loose and travels off in currents of breeze before flitting into little finches your back crumples with fungal looseness your head weighs low                                            and the jaw lumps off shuffling   undecided on its form your forehead bows  to kiss the earth and your face scatters  a gaiety of insects  and spores                   all arts patterned about your pile continues   in this mattering manner collapsing efficiently     you've canonized in nature                     now you’re abroad  mature and freed           to tell your friend this story a spirit  without brag of these neat powers one with mother glory
0
May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 3:39 PM UTC
egg cup and pepper mill
i watch you counting yourself out                                                              courting little pets of body-parts putting pennies on the trinket shelf             talking with wending wordage                              about those gruff fellows who've been pig-holing    about your dwelling that day  you manage a back window                                              and escape                             masquerade yourself  as a gentleman but they sniff at your aromas                      these men in crude season they circle you hinge-hipping as you fleet the roads and fields                         and evade  into the dappling woods "come on out  we have you surrounded"                               (you say  they say) you stay  crossed legged   a monk among trees (these pleasing defenders)                                 you take off your dress  and string it             from one of these trees you dole yourself out                         little pets for the undergrowth            you offer a curled shrew from the space   your kneecap once                           occupied you droop your warm left breast and drop a beast from that cove (a plump vole clambers  fresh and                         disorientated) you plug one arm into loose soil                    and the fingers snake root separation at the elbow                               and branches sprig out both your thighs   animate as fox cubs your ***** leaves from between                                            and slinks under some ivy your hair fiddles loose and travels off in currents of breeze before flitting into little finches your back crumples with fungal looseness your head weighs low                                            and the jaw lumps off shuffling   undecided on its form your forehead bows  to kiss the earth and your face scatters  a gaiety of insects  and spores                   all arts patterned about your pile continues   in this mattering manner collapsing efficiently     you've canonized in nature                     now you’re abroad  mature and freed           to tell your friend this story a spirit  without brag of these neat powers one with mother glory
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53
. 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
0
Sep 6, 2024
Sep 6, 2024 at 11:33 AM UTC
footskins
. 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
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33
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
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May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 9:17 AM UTC
Woodland Pen
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.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 7:33 PM UTC
Komorebi