If we could only under-stand

In the forest

From which every forest is spoken

A platform of leaf is put down

From the tree it leaves

And lies on it

Lion

 

It

Soaks Up

From the moisture

Not just his distinctive breath

But the soil

Trying to lift

A-part from what it is not

 

The water

That had been kept

The lion compresses

Not just his sabre teeth

Dropping unswallowed spittle

On the upside of this limit,

 

Lion

Which lies

Not only lies down

He lies about

Where he is,

 

Leaf of the tree it left

Water of the soil it cannot leave

A lion that lies there

Thrown.

 

An aquifer will form under the dead surface

As first city to an infra-structure

His unused saliva then accumulates on the other side

One half of which goes back down his throat post-structural

 

In this forest

From which every lion lies

The conditions are set down

On everything that wants to leave

And the trees there

Have to grow up

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