Vegetation Kirlian Halo

May 18, 2009

You are the wise one, aren’t you? Gazing at the world through that lens that looks smeared with pollen and/or syrup; noting all of the earth and plants and grasses and there’s that feeling that you’ve smelled it all before or maybe been it, submerged memories of your ancestors who found anchorage in the moist soil, earthworms with their slick forms caressing the tendrils with which you draw nourishment. Feel free to continue as the rain will come soon, which will send the worms to the surface, where they can stroke your curvature and induce all manner of sensation from within and without. The moss carpets the earth next to you, and for all you know that organic felt upholstery will smother you. For all you care.

Pre-rain, the creatures hide

Pre-rain, the creatures hide

Your lucky friends the vines will overtake all of you, though, in a heavenly embrace of rich sensory swirling. The girl who occasionally treads upon you gently picks up one of your brethren, cups his form to her lips, blowing and making him sing his own death knell.  And the tendrils encircle her until she’s all green and brown/pink tentacles with just her rich green saucer eyes peering from her vegetation skin.

You won’t draw Reaper Ivy’s wrath or attention, thank the sun who French-kisses your form.  Because you love him and he, you; so he will kiss and lick you until he and the sun and the fat pink accordioned ‘pods all draw magick from you, and feed your head and fingers.


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