Dirt Me

I don't want to walk, I want to run.

I am amidst a craze phase for you.

Houses are quant,

but dirt in the wind washing my hair is where I am at.

Take me to the field and kiss me there,

I don't want warm and cozy, but cold and shivering.

I want to taste the goosebumps of your lips

and rub your skin with dirt in my hands.

Let me throw my head up to a sky of clouds

and sink your body into the mud of this earth.

I want to have sex in hiking boots and flannel.

(Well, you won't be in flannel long)

Just take me away from the sun

and let me run to you.

No more walking or waiting or idly idling.

Take me to the field and carve our path out.

Let's make this life in all its muck

and make out for a bit

and take the tears with the good.

Come out to this field with me,

we can traipse and traffic

bump into each other

and never come out.

Houses and streets are nice

but not with you.

I want fields and dirt with you.

Let's wander.

Photo by Julia Kruy.  Words by Jordan Lane Shappell

"Tall Grass Can Be Violent"

Tall grass can be violent,

and so can a mistake.

Have you ever stubbed your toe

on a dead body?

Everyone is fashionable

somehow.

Take this grass:

Its hair is bleached 

and its knuckles are

bloody like

the jawbone of

a horse.

I'd like to show you something.

It's a word I just made up.

"Heiosueltkooawe"

It means I'm sorry.

Photo by Julia Kruy.  Words by Randy Conner.

We are tourists in Chicago

Wake from sun squeezed 

by stone and concrete

illuminating windows 

opening our eyes

to go  consume

an authentic Chicago experience.

We ride Lake Front path

with packed crate on bike 

and bag full of U-lock, lunch,

entertainment and essentials

balancing our experience of

naturous Lake Michigan

 and Chicago metropolis

on trail supported by concrete 

built over trash heaps

accumulated from e x p a n d i n g.

We exit the path and return

to feel-of-the-road directions

or Google maps stuffed in pockets.

If lost, we stop.

We buy Streetwise and

pretend that karma stopped us.

Fulfilled day of urban participation--

we re-enter bike path,

sit on concrete steps over

lake water absorbing and reflecting\

our wisdoms of the day.

 

Photo by Julia Kruy.  Words by Ciara Brewer.