This blood is earth and water, this blood is earth and water

But it rains and instinctually
We retreat

Return to a hollow of our own making;
The furrowed marrow mass of a tree uprooted
It’s luck
It’s a manifestation of grief never acquitted

Hold down coarse forest fur
Frantically protruding forth
Out of fear
Out of an absence of warmth

Lightning flashes,
White paints bleak landscapes with negative light
Two dimensional
Binary projection

We are afraid
Of the mother’s gunshot
Of her fierceful fusillades
We are afraid
Not of being stalked
Not of being wrapped under
The deep taloned paw of a predator
But of seeing ourselves in the temporary
Epochal photographies as if a storm,
One of many
Will reveal that as we are the hunted
We are the hunter as well
We continue to take shelter
To live in a state of denial


Fringe Discovery

Counted blessings as seeing the morning sun
Through ten feet of water contemplated swimming
Without the ability to comprehend stable space
Walked across lily pads tempting each to sink
With the slightest indent,

Muddled visions of low tide bringing forth sea shells
Fish scales washed clean and decomposing
Predicting growth as saturating skin till sediment ladened
Pruning exterior inconsistencies
Without care for environmental impact,
Shed dead cells hoping only underneath
Goodness will remain,
Release the ballast
Relinquish dated forms of weight
Memories muttered still remain
Traveling in modulated echoes
Faintly sometimes
Worn and unidentifiable
The past makes clarity further away
Dredge pocket change from sense thrown wistful
Pond bodies becoming wishing wells
To switch perspectives
Believe in the moment gravity shakes hands with hope
Strobing out then again-
A frog leaps from roots showing
Afraid to see the reflection of the place it lives in