Like multi jointed worms, oozing from the earth after a thunderous summer storm, slimy lies wend their way from
Dark places of hiding, feeding on hate and prejudice until the traction they gain propels them through the conscienceless
Oral orifices of greedy politicians. Alternative facts, misrepresentations, broken promises, all squirm from their tongues.
If in death I succumb to the depths of a cold, dark grave, my dear,
Heart stalled permanently; no sights to see, nor sounds to hear,
Then why waste time on costly coffin accoutrement?
My nakedness will not offend worms in search of nutrients.
Why sing songs, most mournful dirges to send me on my way?
Just close the lid and lock it tight against the light of day.
Better still to light a pyre, or set adrift in Viking ship
Burning boldly through the night, ashes sifting, soul adrift.
Note: I hadn’t intended to post this today, but since it’s here I want everyone to know where they can find more of Julie Powell’s photography: juliepowell2014.wordpress.com
I found this fat worm curiously curled up next to a pair of tiny, faerie birds near the faerie dwelling. I’m calling this one, “Too Big to Fail.”