Monday, July 4, 2016

The mana of the fauna


Gaia is my locale,
Terra is my terrain
Inside this
aqueous bubble
flora flourishes
thick and suspended amid
the primordial brew.
This is my realm-
while I am at the helm
I am in my house,
an island broken free.
The sky is not too far away,
a ceiling just out of reach.
On the tip of my fingers,
on the tip of my tongue
I taste the expression
Home sweet Home
and am parched
waiting by the door.




Image By en:Gerard van Schagen [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. World map c. 1689.
Labels: , , , ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Feather weather

Before I arose the tangerine sunrise squeezed its citrus air through my bedroom window dripping fresh pulpy nectar  of a new day onto the co...

  • Tres (trace)
    Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...
  • The Creative Process by e.e. cummings 1 and 2 (plus 5)
                         1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
  • Olive to Fly
    The ship sailed West on Sunday The wind was too wild on Wednesday Our arrow plane rips the paper sky, severing space for itself, i...