for each inch cut, the roots grow ten

i wanted gray or grey and telling a story lying in the soft ground and bouncing back leaning forward to make gestures at the stars letting htem know it's okay if they all want to fall that i can catch them in my palm and place them gently back where they belong, name them all careful names like "godard" and "cousteau" and with moist fingertips to keep the fire from singe-ing me i can lay them lightly back where they belong back where they want to be but i want them to know they don'thave to hold on all by themselves all the time. that i am there to love them, adore them.

i struggle in to kiss the sky "is it time for me to rise? i pull up my stakes again. is there someone who can take me in?" and i can feel the entire earth swarm about and lift me to anywhere i want to go. i am the one thousand and second arabian night. i am the spear ahab shot into moby dick. i am the brugandy "A" laced into the fabirc of hester prinns clothing. i am the godot they were waiting for. i am the plants growing a hundred feet down and up and out this moon will guide them to pluck me up and knaw at me a little then spit me out this harvest and i will rise again into the world lay back gently here reading the names of everyone i've ever known out of the way the stars are placed. i am the lion, and the earth is my roar. i am the lie, and only the earth can muster truth from the lips of life. i am the fountain. and i can flow clean pure waters across everything. maybe it is only for tonight. maybe it is only for an instant, but i know i know it will always be the way i need. i will always be the way it needs as well. we are together fused sodered futures interlocked into everything that ever been a fabric of time flannel plaid covering the earth six billion threads all interlocked. no patch can be added without the help of every solitary thread of every plant of every tree every name that has ever been written in the stars.

we can live forever in the shining stars.

2002-11-20 | 10:29 a.m.
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