Tuesday, January 4, 2011

NaSmaStoMo #4.2 (aros)

I move through the woods
pine needles and sticks 
collect in my hair

I am becoming 
part of the land
rather than just 
moving thru it

a feral child
at last
at

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     I have written a lot about my belly - series of poems dedicated to it. I happen to like my belly. Always have Oh, I know it's not what ...
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