Upon returning from the promised land He took a stroll through the woods of his boyhood Where deer tracks lay fresh within snow Near trails hewed by blades o'er ice
Trudging down a path he'd tread many a time His sense of direction got muddled Though that unrecognized tract sparked intrigue Alas, a felled pine waylaid him thereon
'twas an august old fir Whose enormous trunk stretched Across its coniferous domain Younger timbers looked on in mourning . . .
Diffused through dense canopy Solar flares slanted earthward While chickadees darted Overhead of anthropical bystander
Left dumbstruck with awe His own breath rose as mist And he drew in the smell of that passing Heightened blood pumped blessedly then
Informed by those splendid surroundings: "When majestic trees tumble - upright loners are called out to witness Because all living things, be they massive or small Can depart with immeasurable greatness!"
ultracutebot’s list of the day: music shows & venues
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Foo Fighters with 7 Year Bitch, Ween at the Warfield in San Francisco, CA
(April 1996) Tibetan Freedom Concert featuring the Red Hot Chili Peppers,
Rage Ag...
It all happens so fast
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It bursts green out of the bloody red spring
of young radish sprouts in giddy new mayhem
and ends, in an immeasurably ironic reversal,
with damp raptures in...
Japanese Sentences: Haiku By Clay Boutwell
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*Japanese Sentences: Haiku*
Learn twenty famous haiku in Japanese. Every word and line is broken down
and thoroughly explained. Every kanji has furiga...
Blue Broad in a Red State
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Another two days on the road in D23. If you want to see first hand a
hard-working people and an incredible landscape--this is the place to do
it. Every...
The Two of Us
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*after Kotaro Takamura*
It is you my soul is embracing,
Will always be embracing.
Here I am, and here you are,
Each in each other’s world consumed,
My lif...
Before the Age of the Gods
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The air is thin, between realms now we slip; reaching for the god’s return,
the age of chaos a gateway to Vico’s age of gods. Chaos is the song of
nature; ...
Anti-Poetextraordinaire; dedicated to the evolution of writing as a transpersonal art, rather than an egocentric pursuit. Poetry is dying because Poets smother it.
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