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poem from the between the slow teeth of a tree

a wheat field is a chaos crowd
rioting between the sweat of the earth: whats damp.
in the earth's armpits there are seaweeds
and the moon is a lamp.
the longer your life, the slower you move.
a tree is vibrating with anxiety
and a fly will walk along the leaf like it didn't exist
except to cause a slim itch on the stiff limbs
and germs on the human palms
are like fasteners on the foot of a mantis, insignificant,
and the tree does not catch cold, it suffers quietly
for years.
robots open their lips, they dim their eyes
robots open their chests to collect dead limbs
from the human with departing skin.
The corpse will live in him,
and God will live in them --
the corpse in the corpse --
someday in a coffin --
in 2024

23 Dec 08

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hey i really like this one...the end throws me off a bit...but im a sucker for strange writing....
 — brother_sun

this one has some real good sound quality to it. i noticed it starting in 8, on the first read, as though the writer was kinda just then warmed up, and heat was starting to come out of the vents. but that was obvious. the poem is very subtly manipulative in this way from the start.
wheat field
chaos crowd
earths armpits
etcetcetc et cetera
 — chuckle_s

i read this chuck and didn't get much.. i'll re-read and speak it outloud..
 — Mongrol