Your Voice is Not a Slice
Keep roots full, gourds bitter; let wild nature fiercely twine against all…
Read more →From scrutinized skin, a collective loathing volcanoes, truly alive.
It’s the tree,’ said the dryad shortly.
‘What’s it doing?’ said Rincewind.
‘Living.’
-Terry Pratchett
and the eyes. the fever
of their gaze. being watched.
being smelt
from one haze. being herd
with our-coloured,
our-tongued, our-haired/
head-covered. skin
like one sky
cut out as rubber
sheets. talking
of the same swords,
same haste & honey. tilling
the same loam
& lumber & lamb & loathing.
loathing that volcanoes.
walls & wells
it forms. that which
swells and of which swallows
as ours. now it’s living.
only now it’s
living.