Barefoot on a Thistle-Overgrown Road is a worm poem, a reflection on digging out a space and finding your way.
Barefoot on a Thistle-Overgrown Road – Worm Poem
Sometimes, thistles lay infesting and pestering and festering my breath, squeezing me / and I steal a page from the worm.
In slime slithering, plainer than paper, worms progress and prosper and prospect, inspecting the next gulp of grub in the mud. Digging the dark, swallowing dirt, driving on, conquering blind, stealing light into grit, scraping and scavenging and dredging a ditch for thistle roots, now pushing on buds and thorns and the sting of a bee sharing nectar with pests.
Sometimes, a worm lays infesting and munching and crunching an apple / and this space is juice.