Rain Trek
root and leaf
preened by wet.
a mood of slithery visages slippery.
how they coil of spleen and worm,
involuted postures
agape and drunk in the half dark.
i invade this realm of entrails
subtle as a jester
dim and plotting my missteps.
lichen loom to explain
how soft and gone
and doomed the mushrooms are,
a quilt of fragile shells
reminisicent of skulls and death.
on and on,
i wend the soggy musculature,
mud and wood my tapdance
as i attempt to share
the snare drum of blissful patter.
a mouse and a few wrens
hunker in nooks,
but my flesh chills if i stop to say hi—
trickles of water under drenched wool,
fashioning a cage.
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4/27/25 some mods
4/24/25 ... a few mods
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