This haiku makes me feel twisted and abstract, much like the pretzel-roots of a bitter old oak tree I used to climb. I love that you've chosen to follow your inner child to those dark pools that bubble with whispers, saying, "Taste our tides; they are warmer than forgetfulness. Take off your clothes and slip quietly inside the black mud of your photo-flash subconscious. Let us hold you." Listen to the pools. They speak the truth--Self-expression is the sweetest drug.
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2 comments:
This haiku makes me feel twisted and abstract, much like the pretzel-roots of a bitter old oak tree I used to climb. I love that you've chosen to follow your inner child to those dark pools that bubble with whispers, saying, "Taste our tides; they are warmer than forgetfulness. Take off your clothes and slip quietly inside the black mud of your photo-flash subconscious. Let us hold you."
Listen to the pools. They speak the truth--Self-expression is the sweetest drug.
bark becoming skin.... trippy
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