July 2, 2014



I partially cede mes droits de seigneur
For a guided tour of the lands of my flesh.

Rappel gently down the cliffs of my neck
And mark your place with indents small.

Explore the stalagmites of my chest
And the echoing heart – listen close to the walls.

Cling fast to the arms to assist your descent,
And use them as harness to hold you in place.

The rumbling stomach like boulders in fall –
And on that subject, the abutments below.

Feel free to traverse them, even crawling by hand,
And mayst even bow down, kiss the earth if you will.

The back country, though, is most unexplored,
Thus likely to remain, guarded by and from Bears.

The tree-trunk legs are not maple – I entreat, do not tap –
But you mayst feel free to rub on their rough.
And the footlands, feel free to linger and explore,
And sample their delicacies slow as you please.

Take all time that’s required to ascend to the heights,
Where I reclaim my rights with the flag of a kiss.

Tim, 7-2-14

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