I’m a giant burl
a fungus
spun into a lumpy shape,
a coil of sadness/excitement and trepidation
about a tomorrow
where all the wood is expected
to fall in with the rest of time.
I don’t know how the ocean
will receive me.
I want to learn a floating song
that allows my limbs to fall
open and smoothly
on the summer breeze.
The Word Rummager 
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