Hello, dear Sam!
How have you been keeping? The darker days are nearly upon you and your hemisphere. Now may be the time to consider the Tarvu religion. I will include a link for you at the posterior of this post (post-post, essentially "post scriptum", but I'm being silly, you see). You have eaten of the turkey, roots, and gourd: the symbolic final meal before the on-set of hibernation. Be glad of the season! The harvest has been plentiful.
I found an old poem of yours that I am posting here as well. I had a difficult time considering your implied metaphorical comparison of this pride of un-pride, and the pool of stagnant water left behind in the tread-marks of a forest harvester. Maybe you are inverting the order of reference. The weird palindrome makes me think so: pride; un-pride; stagnant water (un-pride, the world as it is, for better or worse); harvester (human pride). But I liked the inclusion of a religious and occult sensibility, and the confusion of both with pride and un-pride. The midge is collecting blood in an indiscriminate way, as is the plaid-shirted lumberjack.
It may be that you have had difficulty expanding your poems beyond a verse or two. Why are you always trying to be so pithy, anyhow? Can you write something for me that is self-absorbed, long-winded for the sake of words, and just plain fun? I'd like that. Well, that's all for now. Be well!
There is pride in endeavouring
To have no pride at all
A diabolic iloba ida
Following a fall
So a stagnant pool of water
In uprooted forest’s wake
Will spawn a teeming multitude
For our bloody sake.
