My Swolen Desire


United States
35° 40' 53.0472" N, 78° 45' 32.2416" W

I've never understood
how desire feels.
Gathering fire, wood.
Noticing this is real.
Camping in a large forest,
Under the most wonderful sky.
Wooded fantasies - must resist.
Nature's seductive aroma - must deny.

Because I would get lost
If I chose to venture off.
And I could get dirty
in the mud so soft.

Can't I help my urges to climb
the stiff and sturdy vine?
Though the poison should be a sign,
that little rash is worth the divine.

My eyes can't help but spot
every beautiful ugly thing.
The rabbits, the birds, a buck
whose presence makes my heart sing.
Unexplainable are these emotions.
So powerful I'd feel them from
mountains to oceans.

I lie
awake in my tent all night.
It's the moist morning fog that ends the
internal fight.
I use
the fresh, early light
to guide me through the pine.
I'm allured by a log.
Through the wet summer air the sun shines.
So wet the swollen and soggy log.
Still, I leave everything behind.
My palms' oils mix with the miry
wet blanket within the lumber.
If my pulsing veins made sound,
they'd emit thunder.
I'm loving this tree where, above,
birds have once flown.
I've forever wanted to see, in a log,
a young flower now groan.


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