Hototo is a poet, and his voice it two toned and melodic. He is slow to speak, which he will do so in riddle or prose. Aside from when Hototo quotes another great poet, to whom he will always give credit, the prose is original and orchestrated of course by the human behind the deer. Sometimes his words may reflect what is going on in my world. Glean what you will.

March 5, 2014:

::On spellcasting::
You, slumbering stranger,
you speak to me with silence;
a mute canvas.

And so I will paint you in glory
unspoken. A swan
befits your mystery.

He who is unknown, is known to us.
Reveal your elegance and be reborn.

March 4, 2014:

There is a silence that speaks to a knowing
of things past and things yet
unraveled.
Untraveled paths; root riddled.

Bloodroot for my body.
Spiderwort for my spirit.
Mugwort for my dreams.

Junebeetle speaks the way is treacherous.
Sowbug quips the way is through.
Firefly says nothing.
Now I know what I must do.

A forgotten Time:

*Hibernating* :::Two Dreams:::

Of Falling into sleep:

Inhale... The light has scattered, leaving a space to dream.
Perhaps this final shadow is meant to explain why
and then I understood.

I thought "blurr" as if the one word would do it
silouhetting the day with scent, smudging time in mind
just enough to slip.

I thought "I am a ghost"
That's why yesterday was shoved into tomorrow and forgot where it was going
and why, when it comes I am going to disappear, maybe.

And why I wake up at night
to find out who's been tapping at the riverstones
who's been there... and never is.

I walk in sleep
and dreams they finally stop drumming,
instead they break through.

I tell myself "we are not lost" in the middle of reality
to remind myself of how I know the secret
-behind- the sun.

And someone's watching.
I hear my name in the voices of strangers
I hear my name in the voices of friends, and I crumple.

When light returns and suffocates the sleep
will I be alive?
Or will I find it's only begun?

Will I sing to you of rain
as if yesterday had dropped out of somewhere and cracked the sky?
That's how it all started.

The stars explode my beating heart
and the one that fell was my last ride home.
"so smile now" (Is this my own thought?)

-==========================-

Of surfacing, of a struggle to wake:

And this is the breaks
Where the atmosphere unfolds and is rendered paper thin.

Rising, I make love to the sun
with my blind and piercing stare.

I watch the horizon because
once I heard that home is right there... Only one step past the line ( no no no) cut
to part us from here and far away.

from here and far away.
far away, far away, even farther.

Here is far away.
far away, far away, far away, even farther.

Parting Far away and far away and far away and far away and far away... even farther.

... To make distance palpable and nearness intangible.

I have a sleeping sickness
and I have a crush on the end of the world.

Because that is the catch where my breath escapes
stealing me to edges

and far away

even farther.

(Why can I not wake up?)

A forgotten Time:

: Stranger - :::A Waking Dream:::

The sky is filled with birds. The whole forest has taken flight.

Why do they make no sound? It is because they are falling.

Someone has set the sky on fire; blue blazed over in a romance only angels dare...

And the Ruin bells toll out the warning. "Here is now and now is cascading."

I realize now I am not alone. Behind me is a thin line, a cut in peripheral vision.

Is it far away? Or a hairs breadth behind me? I do not look. I am afraid it may see me.

I cannot focus. Like a star, hung from high places, constellation blinded.

All I see is shadow, Illuminating nothing. Or is it a light sucking in on
itself?

I lay out amongst the crushed leaves. Leaves make patterns.

I breath, I hold my breath. This is what it feels like to be
K A L I D O S C O P E D.

I am the color blue. (not me not me not me)

I fill my lungs with places I once had forgotten and remember once...

I was a fawn and once I could vanish.

Just once.

A forgotten time:

Mockingbird

You have turned into a lovely bird
and carried me away.
Carry you away...

I am a carnation dream and I have seen those eyes before...

And now I know I love her
My love, she has those eyes.

Amaranthine eyes.
Blue sky
storming eyes.

And I want to run away
hooves pounding
heart beating

eyelashes reflecting sunlight over wild eyes.

A forgotten time:

Rain :::A Waking Dream:::

This is a secret...
I want to shelter lovers... and enemies.

I want to entertain the chance to make mistakes.

I am still watching over you. I am still here,
breathing quietly beside you in the night.

Though, you may not see me.

You may not see me because it is dark.
It is dark because I swallowed the sun.

If I were to sing, perhaps it would slip out.

I hold the dawn in my mouth, under my tongue.
I suck on it like a drop of fruit...

and it tastes like rain. Always like rain.

>A forgotten time:

Learning to Play, Learning to Fight.

I am Saffron!
I am laced in gold!
Catch me in the sky!
I am running!
Star spun kicking!

And the strong stag trumpets and kicks the dirt and the smell of musk and black earth sulfuric electricity static in my mind. The smell of damp weeds in his maw, and sage soft sickly sweet drawing burnt lines in my eyes, leaving ash in my heart.

Here is now and I can see the sunrise RED on my horizon and I slip into a state of awe and become like how (I REMEMBER MY FATHER).

I miss him. My strength is bright and stubborn. (sulferhearts) I have it in my blood, buzzing beautiful born into it like him... I am him.

I am saffron like blood, like crimson laced in gold.

A forgotten time:

*Sleepwalker* :::A Waking Dream:::

..."Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.

We are led to believe a lie
When we see not thro' the eye,
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light..."

-William Blake

A forgotten time:

*hibernating* :::A Dream:::
-=It is so quiet here=-
Softly, I hear my breath.
I am whistling beneath the chill of winter
only a hairs breadth away,
yet, in this moment I am spared;
hemmed in against my heart,
and I cover myself
*
*
*
In stars.