Smidgens
Trails… little lines through forests… embrace connections, gather imprints, from hiking boot, the brave flip flop, the weekend tennis shoe. I’m not alone, but, there’s a separateness I can’t deny.
My feet…clunky…bony things…bad negotiators of ground, stumbles into sunlight, with trees as easel, hangs portraits.
Have I ever handled beauty well? My arms seem like slugs. My eyes unreliable. My organs are preconceived plans. I look at my shoes. Such pretty things, such perfect imprints.
I’ve stomped upon dust, steered around mud. These paths tug upon my pulse, an ache. Even weeds are handsome anarchists. The soles of my shoes have been manufactured especially for this moment.
Yes, you’re on the trail. Somewhere ahead of me, sometimes behind. The way you run lures me. I recognize the shape of your naked foot. I think I’m in love with your lost.
I drink your coldest water. My teeth throb. I’m wild, if only for a speck of time. I pull off my socks.
I sometimes think, it’s that very layering of known and unknown truths that makes poetry so indispensable – yours carries that in so many surprising packages of pockets, bags, and maybe beneath the grasping fingernails we all must use – all the best, love your work! ❤️
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Thanks so much Felipe! The words of mine you chose, contain so many truths, in ways I can’t fully explain. I wish I could. Then, it’d be easy. I am honored by your words.
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I try not to let u pass when I spot u in the digital stream, Elan —
Danced among ur lines from the lines between the trees to the moments the stars of words jumped and scattered in patterned pulses; loved this –
“…The way you run lures me. I recognize the shape of your naked foot. I think I’m in love with your lost.
I drink your coldest water. My teeth throb. I’m wild, if only for a speck of time. I pull off my socks.” ❤️
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There is no post here, to pass without a like, translate to love, so, I will simply follow.
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Good shot
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Yes, I modified it myself. Thanks
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Lovely image and beautiful poem. I’m walking there with you.
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Wow, that’s beautiful! And I love the photo. Did you modify the image yourself? It’s very cool! Cheers.
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Absolutely love this!
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“I’m not alone, but, there’s a separateness I can’t deny.” Love it, Elan. It’s hard to be alone anywhere nowadays, but occasionally we find a moment of solitude in a place where fairies dance in little patches of sunlight. Last line got me, too, wild, childlike, barefoot freedom tempered with a cold splash of reality. 🙂
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Stunning images. Love this.
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Breathe sigh… lovely imagery and… perfect!
Hugs!
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I have very high standards and am very impressed with this! Every few words demands rereading and reappreciation for different elements.
“Little lines through forests” offers such an original view; the way the trail welcomes and embraces the diverse feet reminds me of how Nature can unify us; the feeling of being separate though not alone reminds me of how individual the walk is for each hiker; weeds being “handsome anarchists” connects with my unbiased, unconditional love of all nature and makes me champion the underdog; the “soles of my shoes have been manufactured especially for this moment” wonderfully unites manmade and the past with the natural and the present in a perfect moment of destiny; “in love with your lost” and the ghostly impressions of bare footprints running is the icing on the cake as you become momentarily as wild as nature itself by preparing to plummet in yourself. (Your amazing sound devices were not overlooked either.)
A forever favorite in my collection. Thank you for using and sharing your gifts!
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This was wonderful. A pleasure to read.
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Beautiful. I’ve been absurdly busy and forgotten to let myself absorb poetry. Such a lovely little break coming here to your page again.
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No…Imprints is just right. I mean the writing is a lovely stream – visually – the imagery flows like water, as it must, to be honest…
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I too found this to be one of your best interpretations. Your photos (pictures) always invites us to explore with you…and now you have taken us there on foot. Awesome.
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Pain and beauty many times go hand in hand, I’ve found. But I go barefoot at least 90% of the time, even in the snow or burning sand, so my feet are used to it 😏.
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Sometimes I wish I was barefoot. That wish is in the poem. However, being barefoot where the photo was taken might be painful. Isn’t that a paradox?
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Fantastic piece, this is. I picture myself on that trail, but I would be barefoot. Lovely work.
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Absolutely wondrous, Ah, “a walk on the wild side”
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Beautiful
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Woah! Never read prosimetrum like this before.This is such a refreshing read(despite the subtle dark overtones:D).
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Oh thanks. I don’t really do Twitter, though I have an account.
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This is really beautiful, thanks. If I can figure out how, I’ll share on twitter.
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So true Jazz. Keeping one’s feet is always a rational point of view, isn’t it?
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Thanks so much! That could have been the title. But then….?
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Beautiful and invigorating … trees as easels holding portraits-in-the-making as imagination’s wild dreams take shape … all the while, feet on trail …
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Lovely stream of thought…
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