beneath a surface-
thoughts flow
and erode
from below and
you won’t know
the danger
you are in
until
a moment
just before
changes,
just before
the cracks,
just before
the fall through,
just before
the gasp.
beneath a surface-
thoughts flow
and erode
from below and
you won’t know
the danger
you are in
until
a moment
just before
changes,
just before
the cracks,
just before
the fall through,
just before
the gasp.
the water was here two weeks ago. nature sank the reeds and weeds though, with sloshed ice and snow pushed against these riverbanks. slow moving massive bullish currents like molasses combed out bent mud streaked grasses. spring high tides kept tidy lines of woven waves. i look upriver. cool wind brings shivers then freezing breezes. one hand to steady as one finger traces absently downward through mineralized seasons. as dust falls from break walls calcified wave lined stains recall a riverful of water once stood where i stand. breathless, my guess is that the ground where my hand rests only recently has resettled. the fresh borne soil is restless because these days it rests less as hikers and bikers cut paths like wounds across its fresh face. it knows that something chaotic stormed through this tract as a reminder of what owns this land. former trees broke and cracked lay askew on their backs and are strewn along the soft river edges with bristled ledges. i sit atop a 40 foot pine and consider for some time how majestically it lays at my feet, and weeps. the week keeps me in place just like this. in stasis. in its fist. stuck on the bank of work fueled spaces the constant grind erases traces of me. and like that mighty pine all i really want to do is lay down and stay down. trampled by elements outside my control. flattened by a force that consumes me whole. and unable to hear a distant warning bell toll that the deluge is rising.
stand up stare down step out just like when you opened their book their jar their box and released their words their poison their power. the diffused truth stilled tongues stalled spaces sat asses on stools and you stretched and stretched and stretched your handhold on a comet. your planted heels, your leaned back and pitch forward, your allowance of oxygen meet flame, you watched head consume tail, and you stretched and stretched and stretched the clay of your core, not man made, of mother earth and her hope resided in your grip.