Lines from the wood pile; poetry collection

Lines from the wood pile:
Over the course of this winter I've been travelling outside into the forest behind my house to collect some fire wood from a tree that fell in Autumn. The smell of the wood pile is refreshing and natural; and generally not a smell I come across in my daily routine. It helps to spark my creativity as well as bring color to these dreary days.

Indoctrination

A hybrid swing knocks her body.
Folded torso, winner clubs hard.
No one can stop the toxic net
selling hot among newcomers.

//

Our Laws

In bed, under woven clouds we shift
the borders between one soul in two bodies.
Blind to higher powers, she is a physics book
whose kisses are sandbags
passed along each night
to hold back my flood of tears.

//

Paris, France

Wafting, carbon-based desire
lifts accordion bistanders.
Baguettes on shelves
microwave wide cobbled streets,
preparing for the world a
TV dinner of lovers. History's
marble footprint arches over,
directing mustached faces to a
large metal finger telling God
to go fuck himself.

//

Genetics

Coy as a shivering lip these insect taxis
sip nectar burried givingly between folds.
Sugar rush for president of the forest,
accounting for the breeze.

Follow my steemit for more! I have so many poems to post.
Namaste,
ukuleleman.exe