the leaves of my poem

I love it! exceptionally brilliant .

A Holistic Journey

i chew the leaves of my poem they fan green and spirited in the height of their hour veins visible like these that inscribe my hand, run with the life of dreams that have nowhere to go but back down to the branch to the root you don't see look: their asymmetry of being red oak stained with rain pollen much like the blemishes on my face t o r n by time and caterpillars that become f u l l and bloom into butterflies the leaves testify to all the seasons green ash have weathered the wild waltz of wind and rain hungry for the sun they drink from the clouds i feel the laugh lines on the maple and swallow their history - this one, curled copper like rusted edges but it's just the candor of time grain and weave of memories cru n ch between my teeth…

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