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read it
breathe in a small amount
think about it
gasp for air
sink
reread it
resume breathing a tiny bit

(do you still feel that weight
in your chest)

I’m riding my bike today
because my legs like it and
nothing feels like riding forward
leaning over the front tire
to push yourself faster than you could
ever walk

And ever more we find ourselves deeper in the woods; deeper than the demigods who owned these forests much greater and longer than you and me.

Where have we been but this quiet place of trees and no motion. (No motion, no movement at all, the grass here is aching for wind and the soft pid-pad of our feet or the feet of the old-gods, demigods, blue-shadowed-shade-gods.)

Where have we been, yes, but why will we leave (and how) if these oaks and pines and broken green giants never answer our calls to create exits, show us how to discover paths through the deepwoods.

Our techniques of ancient forest geography and fern-based cartography are our navigation and our location is lost forever. Trees of altruism turn to trees of silent judgement and our journey is halted. We shall no longer travel down this path, we will not continue through these ruinous green-blue shadows to the final dry flat plains. We are trapped, trapped forever. (Gone, but here.)