The winter's gone back over to another portion of the sky
Pick up the pocket belt and follow the point pine line!
Deeper into trails the woods become flitty and complex.
The rows are more disjointed and ground a disgusting eyelash mess.
Fell degrees of perverse play, pine trees toss their stones,
in each a developed area, a more fantastic treasure cone.
Whereas mankind has built houses, the tree has built housing-seeds.
A more genuine apostle's plan fulfilling the mind's structure-need.
Come with me outdoors and sing high,
amongst the arms of the reeling pines!
Whimmed ideas, they cry 'our pinecones are perfect worldly purposeful gifts-
twixt the formed sentineled majestic posts palaces will sell the business of pipe brushes
The matter of collecting these cones in groups of petagogic suffrages;
and axiom neglected by the caustic conscious of masses.
This hermit of base truth squatting between pineye lashes.
Endogenesis between the trees, a sly perfection of needley green.
having the fruits of laborous task to a following flow free,
scattered on the ground ripe purchase beneath
Now! Getting those cones to follow me aft to some far off palace
will take some practice at eulogic pine solace.
The base of the tree as judging by eye is the mind.
I refer to it by a name which sounds like wind in whine
It's wound thinking in circles capering in crocodile cloak
whose antics would if pursued contrve and evoke,
from a silent mouse who never made voice heard.
Singing collusion with a predatory aggression of starved bird.
This embezzlement of evocation for its under-estimation
versifying by direct-ation an elusive pertinent calculation.
This mind with spines has adopted to contrive myself
to evoke from my hosts the pines themselves!
Using a foreign branch cast aside by another
I conduct the grotesque in concert of smother
Branches droop down, I direct them to bow low
Hoop shaping around hidden coins to moon and point
'The root say to take the fruit and continue the encircling poise'
So as a circle shouldered ache touting creature-thing.
I rolled with my cones in pine caper style writhing.
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