Forest Mojo Poem by richardo posto

Having not relieved decades long manly tensions

I built up great quantity of Mojo which unleashed onto the world in fit of irresponsibility, after observing Native practices of healthy young Brazilians during Carnaval.

Spraying out forming cloud low over setting sun, I called National Weather Service

I did not gain an audience.

Numerous articles of Virgin births appeared approximately nine months after.


In journey to make contact with the Virgins

I did meat a vegetarian, Kupetcha

who took more than a passing interest in me

Kupetcha taught me everything I was lacking in.

But one day Kuptcha found another.


I was alone again, and found myself sobbing next to a tree which I climbed to gain my bearings.

I was startled by a young woman with a baby who had made large nest in the crotch.

I enquired as to her particulars, she informed me her cruel step mother booted her out into the cold forest because she had become pregnant through no fault of her own

I offer her my assistance

she climb onto my back

I make my way down to the solid earth

I carry her and her young suckling for miles before I collapse into a

haze of exhaustion and contentment

I gladly die but for my newfound bride who built hut from birch bark and pine tar and resourcefulness.

My regained consiousness, was surrounded by scent of rabbit stew slowly roasting over a campfire,

Next to bare breasted bride warming me with required bare skin contact to escape hypothermia.

Innocently I reach out towards the warmth

I spring to life

clasping buttocks