A lion opening his yaw,
Wide and earth caven inside,
holds the great pounding
Of fire beat, that nagging forever
That made creatures crawl
Shuddering and slime-solvent
From the first still ponds
And keeps them calling out
Relentlessly, for a new set of legs
To take them ever farther,
to make a distance.
But was there ever a little creature
Who found the soft shore far enough,
That found the sand grains wondrous
As they flickered moon-sharp?
The in-between body,
the forgotten step
seeping all time through the ground
growing like fabled orchids
fertilized with god-voice.
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