Love a fog at dawn
Burning away at first light
Did not blind us from the others
Who could function as lovers
So wondering in our wanderings
What keeps us
we learned we were ancient
From wind brushed deserts
and reptilian creatures
who told us of the simultaneous existence of young and old
the third was part of mostly you
then us
before I recognized me
For they were a malting fasionista
with intention to migrate west, south, north then east
A disturbing creature
This third
Brought forth traits of our infancy and elders
Until it was impossible to ignore ourselves
In + down
Out+ up
Space needed
Distance taken
For blindness and insight come from traveling along parallel and perpendicular lines
I Love first and final two and poem2, especially chicken evisceration with key-line plowing, a hard road for us.
ReplyDelete1733 Jethro Tull, Horse-hoeing Husbandry xiv. 166 If they [sc. St. Foin seeds] are not cover'd, they will be Malted. Note. We say it is Malted when it lies above Ground, and sends out its Root, which is killed by the Air.
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