not necessarily supposed to
not necessarily reach orgasm
by being conquered.
Mountains feel just
content with uncontrollable exclamations from me
looking up from their feet.
Mountains often reach
orgasm by looking down on me with
I won’t try to
climb the unreachable summit.
I can hit my orgasm through
not being discouraged and
enduring contempt and insult from the mountains.
It’s a big tree
with its root like a strip of grass.
How the root endures that big frame is a mystery…
A little bird lands and sings a beautiful song.
A ray of jealousy hits the big tree.
The little bird boasting of its colorful feather
jumps around the wobbling twigs.
The gorgeous look of the bird brings
a shadow of despair that darkens the big tree.
The little bird,
its struggle to settle down on the big tree,
its singing to hurl jealousy to other birds.
The tree is aware of this or not?
the little bird that cherishes an ambition
bigger than the tree, which tries to carry
the big tree in its bosom.
The root of the big tree
digs deeper in the ground.