Stripped to bark and leaves and less civilization than
a monkey on steroids, leaving coffee stains, grounds,
the earth produces no tea leaves for afternoon suns
but bakes - harboring squids, purple with no more
afternoon than braving a watching camera.
Then it starts and off with clothes, baring personalities
that beg for a standard introduction, hugging nature
but waiting for darkness, shelter, fires to hug the next
task waiting for daylight, stinging the flesh with a new
challenge that reveals nothing.
Spiders climb, avoiding pesticides and the next human
to dwell on the next body, remotely the mast lives
among this dwelling, taking us to the next day.
Dryly we weave in all manner of eating flesh,
carnivores we, to need the next meal of water.
Tracking together, lifting leaves to protect our inhibitions,
we like to wade and catch and strip our lives bare,
snaking through another rocky outcropping of where
we make our nest, to the distrust of leopards and lions
and bears and fire ants who detest humans.
© 2015 Larry Ingram
Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture.