moss-covered limbs break the water's surface, unmoved by the flow.
Unbudged [Haiku]
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among detritus,
an arm breaches the surface:
not waving / not drowning.
The mountain
was so long ago.
Yet, I feel its pulse
throbbing under foot --
into my ever-loving sole.
[You thought I was going to say:
"everlasting soul," didn't you?
Do you think my soles
inconsequential in comparison
to my soul?]
Nothing is firmer or finer
than the point at which
I touch (& know) the earth,
than the point which
presses the real,
and, thus, by which I have
evidence that I live.
[The ghost feels nothing in its soles --
if such a being exists.]
These lowly old soles connect me
to all that is, was, and ever shall be.
Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing.
All art is quite useless.
The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame.
A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all creatures. But inferior poets are fascinating.
You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.
A cow is an animal, &
animals are creatures.
So, having strong proclivities
is a cardinal feature.
Calling them "creatures of habit"
must be for a reason.
If creatures did not form habits
the term would lose cohesion.
But I digress, I must admit.
Let me get to my point.
You see, a sloping pasture must
be murder on the joints!
A random beast, who stood this way
& that, would balance out,
but standing each day - just one way -
could cause a hip blowout.
A cow that grazes on a pitch
must have unequal legs.
Maybe, all it would take would be
two tiny pirate pegs.
For wearing pegs on the downslope
side would align the hips,
but then on walks down to the barn
cows would be prone to trips.
For now, there's just one solution:
bovine chiropractors!
Because the cost will be so great,
I'm seeking benefactors.