VERSE • ryder lake, bc • 2003.03.26
Humans eat chicken breasts
All that one can come to be, and what we are, is walking trees.
We run on sugar, breathing gas to keep remaining strong and fast.
Finger branches, tissue of leaves- hunting for some dirt to eat.
Skin of bark in sap of blood; consuming, growing, just for fun.
Patterns wave, in seperate chunks, as minds expand electric trunks.
Rising out of clay and mud, we propogate in hearty bud.
All leaning on the sun for all, and heaving just before we fall.