Tagged: the Earth
Maya
human animal awareness
peaks
at the edge
of physical boundary
such as
out of the woods
& into a clearing
or reverse of that
into greens
that when mixed together
appear black
some have thorns
so they all might
some are oily
& poisonous, so
they all might be
we appear on a hill
at the edge
of a cliff, below which
a river
beyond which
the stone shaved
clean
by wind
membranes of
cities, the towers
neck tied
& black of dress
the first doorway
opened
& the first pen
an absence
a finger slick with berries
the first wall a raft
possibly
a door
or
the green wall
of medicine &
fibrous material
fruits
& soft bedding
The Ancient Reptilians
every dinosaur book starts out
a long long time ago, or
before
there were buildings, cars
before the trees were gone (once
when they had never been)
before
the leaves were different
and as gluttonous drinkers of sun
they stood, broad faced and brachial
before
their necks. maybe we say instead
instead there were dinosaurs
very unlike cartoon dinosaurs, who
before
becoming huge and terrible
could fit in the palm of your hand
their woodpecker hearts bled in
before
receding, flooding again the plains
of their limbs to move. they’d tense in
vegetation, wary of their own feathers
before
in agitation, taking flight
this is before and during the
beginning of time
before
enough collective damage
had been done to call it the past
before there were roads
before
the whispering of animals into rooms
of our dwelling. be it houses, clothes
as fire eats the air
before
air has had enough and shoos it
when at once it has always been
like the ground to a foot in a shoe
before
the biggest thing on Earth was God
A Consequence of the Size of the World
we fell in love, and were separated
the problem therein –
it wasn’t hard enough
to see each other again
The Exact Moment of Small Comfort
No one likes you or dislikes you
whatever that color is in the middle
a green, just inside
being closer to dying
the mean, the law of savages
the point at which your face
becomes caked in need of nothing
muddy camouflage, carefully applied
to whatever greenish-brown thing
happened to you, is still happening
something will get a good meal out of me
that’s why it’s not sad
The Earth & its Atmosphere
there must be a hole
for needing to be better
& hating yourself
through which
it leaves
we park somewhere
a trap
of green gasses
idling, a sun roof
the large holes
carried
in front of our bodies
like stealing art
the certain parts
of air that stick
before
being sent back
the false ones
the hopeful ones
the oxygen
the nitrogen
the courageous others
tagging along
swept up in it
we give each other
something good a little less
each time
here in the same place
but it’s still
some good
we finger the holes
in our hoodies
& in the atmosphere
we crack a window
we finger our mouths
through which words
emerge from
primordial
soupy throats
but where
before that? i struggle
sometimes
perspective… or
who was there
when it happened
a police officer?
a father?
a friend
who learns the world
by looking at you
looking at them
Prayer as Lizard
a small thing
to pray for a tree
the type of thing
that lives
in a dead oak’s
hollow. prayer
that resembles
a lizard
circling
its way up
on the opposite
side of the trunk
from him, so
he can’t see it
and to catch it
is out
of the question
Why Some People Make It
I feel the weight
of a very large decision
left open to me, like
a container in the snow
I lie to a park ranger about
the temperature back home. 110 degrees!
You lie to an old lady about
how long we watched a flip-flop
flip in the glacial rapids, caught
in a whirlpool, not emerging. At least an hour!
Persistence, I point out. Arbitrarily
pointed persistence
Here, you say, passing me a stone
feel how smooth
Fish Gardens
those fish were caught by men
with their feet in water
those fish were caught by men
with their feet on land
in the middle, a couple of babies
pose for their wedding pictures
her dress is lumpy, leguminous
like it is actually cauliflower
his has a pocket for his phone
everything outside their body
is light. literal, actual light
light is decided upon in the brain
the brain is a folded leaf
this is can turn into anything
imagine we are fish swimming
in a man made water system
never have the edges to things
been more clear
Petrify
still caught up
in how we felt
about it earlier
the rarest stone
a person’s mind
being changed
I just planted seeds
in the garden. it is
snap pea, an easy seed
in a way I am checking
the earth’s pulse
I sit with it
having hope, but
waiting for it
I worry that thoughts
rarely occur
that aren’t hardening
the old ones
The Earth
I watch this kid
fold a world map tablecloth
around his body
and call himself The Earth
Like that is
his wrestling name
He plans to join
the downstreet kids
who have made a ring
out of old mattresses
Sheets tied together
someone’s actual mailbox
repurposed
as a turnbuckle. The other
turnbuckles
are city-issue trash cans
Kids are leaping
off them, yelling names
that they have chosen
for themselves. Soldier Man!
The Hurricane!
Robot Shark!
The Earth readies, and
hurdles down
Likely he’ll get pummeled
but that’s why
any of this happens. He
runs into the sun, laughing
the arctics tied
around his neck
I think about the times
or time I was a boy
How when a boy runs
(or fights, or loves)
he flares out his world
like a cape