FREE-RANGE THINKING
They are 'arranging their plans like
worms,' preparing to rise through the
soil both dumbstruck and blind though
seeking both light and moisture. Not
enough to drown, nor be burned-dry,
but just enough to lead them along.
A sniff to the dry oasis inside.
-
Even though it contradicts, it remains
transcendent - that dying, dry and
stiff, in numbers or alone, atop wet
earth. Sad and lonely, sad and lonely.
-
It's already the first of Adderlay back
were I began : that was usually a day
of mirth, a holiday slanted towards
nothing. I can remember how, in
the early morning, amidst our three
varying suns and two slanting moons,
those who begat came forth, for thanks.
-
Equivalent to the sort of Mother idea,
here, they simply bowed their head as we
each were allowed to touch and speak.
To say something decent, and sincere,
but keep it brief. I always excelled at
that. A bit, like, here, your haiku, but
of a more than fierce emotion, and
something we needed to compose,
right there on the spot.
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