if i were a fox
hunting frogs at twilight
splashing in the swampy grassy puddles
orgy of chirping sexing sirens
ears brain bewildered by disorienting cacophony
mind pierced to the core by a nauseating buzzing
can't pinpoint a single bloody voice!
every swipe, empty handed mud
i would go hungry
but the orange moon still rises
19Apr2008
albany pine bush
Monday, April 21, 2008
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