Exploring the romance of decay.
by Eva Ventoux
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Not rated by the Author.
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She's cutting down autumn trees to make kindling for fuel for a fire,
She'll be burning away,
Casting a shadow,
She's growing down,
To nestle her bones.
She's carving her memory,
Hoping you'll need it,
Knowing a lack for want,
Ana is a sweet girl,
Bound in a bittersweet ground.
To know of the divine pleasures of rotten earth,
There'll be food for the carrion.
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|Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
|Soul-searching poetry / It has taken me many years, but I have come to believe in your line. "To know of the divine pleasures of rotten earth," and the people who populate it. To say the earth is a mystical "thing," and not rotten all you have to do is look around at the carnage and misery through so-called natural acts, or as we humans like to say, "Acts of God." Mankind is no better as we have tried, with no success, to tame Mother Earth. She is a witch. Welcome to AD.|