top of page
  • Writer's pictureC. Jensen


their magic buried in inky black husks

their furred green shells

their woody bodies

red, polished lacquer

magenta tendril

do we leave them

daemon powers under the wisdom of wind

to rot or sprout, in the wet, as they will.

do we harvest them

Who is we?

I am trying to be a shaman I do not know if I have what it takes to become a shaman.

to a nut;

"I am witnessing thou."

I don't know what I am doing.

I don't know what you can do.

Tell me a story about a hickory tree that grows

where you are

from now until

the end.

14 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Soothe, scream

*A poem in progress mullein may soothe lungs dry and strained shouting out why shouting out no more going home preparing a snack something sweet something comfortable feeling comfortable how long can

Bruno Says

Terrestrial is better than global, but only because we must seek plus, not minus diversity, not monoculture. The plot thickens with vegetal lattice we thrive on these, we discard those, something eats


bottom of page