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Through the woods 
in late afternoon in autumn

as the colours
drain brown
stain water
humus
over broken
branches
all bark-stripped
smoothworn
they blindly rush
hoping 
the leaf-slick
deer-run
leads them away
from dusk
hanging low
so soon
to the hollow
where the
flask of scotch
was hid

Originally appeared in “Gorilla Pamphlets”

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Some experimenting below. I thought it may be interesting to append to this post. This would be a good exercice à la Beckett to achieve that “detached” vibe in one’s writing.

In experimenting with my poetry, I wanted to emphasize the “alien-ness” of my writing. I ran a poem through multiple AI translations, overlapping culture, idioms, etc. Original and “new one” below. Fun exercise in #poetry #WritingCommunity #writing pic.twitter.com/iHRebbngrK

— R L Raymond (@R_L_Raymond) December 12, 2021