Filed under WOD

3 responses to “Moss

  1. stewartparker

    I am a stone, facing someone else’s true north, shaded by those who have risen further and farther, rooted, yes, but with a view, reaching a sky I will never see.

    I am a log, paragon to fallen greatness, no roots, no future, rotting potential.

    I rest in darkness by a river no one can ever step in twice. Not the same river. Not the same person. Ask Hesse.

    I am unmoving and immovable. I do not roll. I gather moss and obsess about self-pity.

  2. bed of lamb 666

    Moss is a plant. The plural of moss is mossi. Mossi is also a drink native to sections of cities which have Little Italy sections. Mossi is also hip-hop slang for either money or Tony Bennett, we are not sure.

    Moss grows in moist areas and in the crevices of unkempt people. It can grow anywhere in the world, and is often harvested from unkempt people. It is sold on the Commodities Exchange and on eBay. Moss is often eaten raw and used as carpeting in woodland fairy tales, but has yet to find its calling as a metaphor for any major political party.

    I am sure you have heard the phrase “roll one for Kate Moss so she can get stoned.” Enough said.

    Moss was gloried in literature, prominently during the 1950’s, or the Fonzi Era. Beat Poets, like Dwight Eisenhower, high on marzipan, liberally used moss as a symbol of the times. The 1950’s were filled with marzipan, moss, and various jellies from exotic lands.

    I like picking moss off the base of a tree as much as I like picking at a scab.

  3. Surly Temple

    We didn’t have a swimming pool. We had a “warm” spring, fed by underground currents. Once the moon rose and the air cooled, you could walk the mile-long dirt road with your towel wrapped around your neck, kicking rocks out of your flip-flops. If it was a full moon then just as the road curved you would see mist rising up from the water with a cacophony of bullfrogs in the reeds. The water was never bathwater warm, but you could paddle around and find the feed sources and hover above them if you got cold. If it was a moonless night you could float on your back and see the entire Milky Way banding the night sky. You could point out the Pleiades. If it was a moonless night and you were swimming naked, however, your heart would nearly stop when SOMETHING grabbed your leg, only to find it was a random patch of moss drifting through the water.

    I always thought I hated that town and everything in it; but if I could I would go back and immerse myself in that spring and emerge 17 years old, and huddle in a doorway and feel lips and teeth and skin and bones tight against mine as I kissed my boyfriend in the rain, and know that this time it would last forever.

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