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November 18, 2024
"Mes de los Muertos"

The Portal in the Woods

By Strider Marcus Jones

The Portal in the Woods

Seeing somnambulist sunrise
Through open window
Touch your face
After love rides
On moon tides
In ebb and flow
At tantric pace --
Love resides
Tasted
No asides
Wasted
Spices of the flesh
Soaking rooms in Marrakesh
How I ate your truffle in Zanzibar
While you smoked my long cigar.

Back home --
Tribes of bloods
And druids roam
Seeking out the overgrown
Portal in the woods
Where we hondfast
In this present of the past
Dance chanting
In stone bone circles
Like ooparts
Practicing
Magical arts
Settling
What chaos hurtles --
Reconnecting rhythms
In living and dead
To those algorithms
In nature's head.

We are rustic --
Romantic
In land and sky
The    air    fire    water
To warriors who slaughter
If Us or Them must die.
We wake
For clambake
Pleasure
In a cauldron lake
Of limbs together
Then cut sods of peat
From the bog under our feet
Exposing the pasts
That never last.






Article © Strider Marcus Jones. All rights reserved.
Published on 2021-10-11
Image(s) are public domain.
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