By: Jiro Jones

We are sculpted with the Earth.

Our legs are like trees, 

made of red muscle and bone.


We are rivers and rapids of blood flow

like nectar from the fruit of the vine.


We are organic machinery.


Our hands are claws made of pumping pink mush.

Small shields of keratin decorate the tips.


Little threads sprout on us in collagen gardens, 

which we tend to like farmers

in passing seasons.


Incredible is the tongue that tastes,

sensing each feature

each flavor.

Mountains and ridges are in our mouths.

We have valleys and cliffs in each inch. 


Our pulses sing like birds.

Like wind, we pull the air. 

Watch us thrive.

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