Nature


The stout banana spider 
Loves the four-inch brands of the deck
My steps grind deeper into the earth.


At the trail, the sign should read
Welcome to a few across muse useless

 
For snakes and mold here he dozes 
Until he hears my steps, then he's off again, diaphanous
As ether, Cobwebs licking his arm link tongues.


Perhaps this parie is better off without me
No urban temptations, no rubber soles,
No pen poised, no vision laking.





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