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from heel to thigh
the light cups her
bow stomach
to supine spine

I am thinking of the forest
they are coming closer
my brothers my sisters
are anxious

"Do you like the new jeans?"

like delicate flight
the words sought
the esteem in need
of support

"you are lovely in them
Gifted with good genetics"

Outside over the rooftops
and the claw of the forest
limbs a black bird hovers
in the winds hand

She smiles
and I hand her the fresh warm
The clean white shirt
the crisp black slacks

Editing stage: 


Depth of meaning.

Yet I can;t help getting the feeling you are saying "no, you don't look fat in that dress."

A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'

Know how to say..."no of course, your bum doesn't look big in that!"

This is a lovely wistful piece.

In the middle of storylines there seemed to be a want to
put in more storylines
It was confusing to say the least
Like a dinner party or sitting at the pub with noise
listening to two conversations beside each

How they criss crossed each other was mind numbing

The reference to brothers sisters was wolves
when one is not hunting them they know
they come right up and around
but the gun and they move right away
keeping an eye

How we look upon one another sometimes
in the same predatory light
Seeking to sate a hunger for approval
the words weighted
delicate like a balanced dagger
the thumb askance the edge

Lovely! we sit sometimes
at the window watching storms
or the hot nights
pondering the real bush
the real forest far away

lately the great storms have
been removing more and more
shelter and altering the shorelines
with its increased force

the fires in intensity growing with
each new dry season that stays
drier for a long long time

Women need their support
the world is cruel
the intelligent ones who love
and have not lost the compassion
or humility are rare

my propensity for brutal analysis
is common place and well known
Here words can be left like domino
runs.....this new delicate manner
in life is something new
and to mean it is another

I believe the world is falling to more
chaos...I watch the sky the birds
the animals for signs

and yet why should one forget the
civility of costume the
ritual of dress

The black and white are work clothes
belonging to the system
civility pushing goods

Fresh warm laundry is civilization
still working
three days on the street I remember
and the stink of humanity is so powerful
its not fur...
and yet through all my study of violence
of man against man the simplicity of
the bullet..the Kopperjacket was its
undoing to this day

I washed clothes in the bathtub to keep
alive the orphan of my habit while I starved
slowly down there becomes a smell
to this too of damp mould and soap
the oils not quite removed

To admire and see society that does work
that does not sneer at one
from a position
and asks
honest feedback
is a kind of
wonderful experience

Like Neopoet on its good days

stories upon stories
we would have exterminated al the wolves
and we havent
they are alive and well in pockets in forests
still close around here

we havent killed off interchange by telling
pepole the brutal efforts for crushing them
but seeing in them the lines of how they
fit in their skins..their lives..scars bumps
lumps and all

Must go to part time work
my half hour commute on the bike
six klicks one way and back
on the hard tail mountian bike
pain killers and then lots of coffee
and radio chatter with the mates
and crafting...

Thank You

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