An Old Poem and a Silly Gif

Tradition

 

My legs have stood chimney-straight
out from green swamps, displacing
two naked calves worth of the primordial.

Once I was a mossy cave, uncharted
full of slick wet noise. The crawling things
named me a name of inner circles.

Tonight I lick salt from country roads.
Light and thunder break the old agreements
but scavengers remember their respects.

spider

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