'Poet-tree' (Happy Birthday, birksy)
By christy
each year the body of the oak knows another ring, wider than the one before, a symbol of increasing thirst and wisdom sucked from soils. he is the dark fruited king pendulous with grace, courting autumn with gifts of russet spangles, amber-browns to dance in her honor. and like the oak, the poet grows in his rough skin, each year experience birthing a rosy excrescence on the heart. his spirit feeds on naked earth and bitter wines and passion drawn into every aching root. in his autumn, blood-rich words will unfold to dance inside our eyes.Happy birthday a couple of days early, big brother!!!!! Written February 14th, 2002 © on Feb 14 2002 01:36 AM PST 0 • 10
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"each year ..."