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Excerpt for 3 Humans in a Forest by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

Three humans in a forest

By Ho

Copyright 2018 Ho

Smashwords Edition



Table of contents

Introduction

Butterfly and supermarket

Caterpillar and goddess

Codes and pigtail

Compassion and sky dive

Controlled stammer and dragonfly

Echoes and river

Fish and bursting head

Flying squirrel and ghost

Frogs and crocodile

Hair and spider

Leaf and salt

Lizard and man's curve

Lone boat and shirt

Lousy fabric and tsunami

Lungs and bark

Man-tree and mirror

Medusa and head lice

Missing leg and thunder

Mosquito and incomprehensible tones

Necessary touches and waving

Pee and rotating eyes

Pimple and microphone

Roots and clock hand

Sharper resolution and strolling

Skeleton tree and soup

Song and curtain

Stingy sky and see saw

Vowel sounds and diet

About the author

Introduction

28 prose poems about 3 humans in a forest, arranged in alphabetical order of their titles - in other words, they don't have to be read in a certain order.

Butterfly and supermarket

There is a butterfly on her hair like a clip, unmoved by walking and turning her head four times, thrice to eye contact me when I spoke of beautiful things, bridges and cows and buns. The clip found its owner at the passing of the flowers on the ground and some flowers on the trees make them look like jumping that in some color matches a fountain can be glimpsed, and this too the beautiful that came. Group conversations with codes between the man and I we establish the non-existence of her shampoo on supermarket shelves, that fruits were involved but most vitally flower juices, those white with purple rustiness by her garden shed perhaps. The suspicion when we smile thankfully dissipates before her scalp tingles, for an encounter with a competitive flower we await.

Caterpillar and goddess

The drop or the roar or the flash, a thunder accident of a branch abandoned has a caterpillar crawling frightened. Seek the leaves are words spoken with a crotch scratch like it’s a Sunday afternoon of watching waves withdraw. A patch of gate-crashing sun is a spotlight on a hunger games stage involving crows and sounds so distant from names guessing makes the girl wait. A nailing on her elbow I suggest she intervene that playing goddess rewards. The caterpillar caterpillars into the light and bathing in skin glow she seeks certainty.

Codes and pigtail

The man once saw a much bigger type charge at a man. He flew and landed flat as a line. This one has pigmentation on the butt that looks like a van, away from the smell, from the tail coiled like an Indian incense, or Middle Eastern, I saw it in a room darkened by curtains, by a Japanese table where men sit across sharing codes. Prone to cuteness the girl approaches. Something at the foot of a bush straightens the tail, pigtail, now I get it. But you never know, the wild ones, the nose can punch like Chinese Kung fu.

Compassion and sky dive

On the edge of a big fern leaf, half a millipede wriggles in the air seeking a landing for its five hundred legs. Feelers scan for signals, not compassion for their ancestors and ours did not mingle much. If the ground is the destination it must sky dive. Crawling on the underside is the alternative and being blind, detour is the destiny. A hot cup of tea by the ocean of unexplored diet must be its kind of time. The man offers his hand for a feeling and its many segments delightfully bend. Poison the girl mentions and the hand withdraws leaving the legs short.


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