in becoming
i break apart
into space
for holding
emergent life
not yet
seen & here
i go dark
underground
to breathe
invisible communion
among all breaking
open
in the formless, fertile mess
in becoming
i break apart
into space
for holding
emergent life
not yet
seen & here
i go dark
underground
to breathe
invisible communion
among all breaking
open
& movement
all web
all weft, warp
all woven
in why whistling
underwind
& winding back as if to
tie you to its
waving
& away from
what you thought
known of who you
were
& whose word
strange unseen dark of this body
heartbeating unto her first word
and it was good
and it was listen
all this before the hour of tower lights
and high walls blaring admonitions
ripe for falling from and that followed
and with it the word forbidden and us
tumbling after
& now is a good time to remember
how in the beginning
before the word
was her hearing
like come
inbeing
breath of air
brush of skin
tap of wet
cup of water
hand to mouth
face to cat
ear to whale
swerve to dance
in flight
in dream
in song
in throat
of blood
gone
loosed
efforts in pieces
the shock of being
upends the bowl of
me again to shard
and I have only a
net of words to
collect me back
to seeming whole
but again
to be a husk
returned to soil
by way of river
over falls
& under bed.
what good
is this? someone
asks & one
answer is another
voice, yes
what good
is this.
who live beyond measure
If children are disappearing it does not seem like a stretch to wonder if some have decided that there is no place for them here. Most of us are made of something that does not innately know its place & must be welcomed into being.
Let’s do more of that & more to read them, and more conversing with—and much less of the poking, prodding, scrutinizing “temperature checks” that are supposed to pass for paying attention to their needs & wondering why they look away.
& resonance
why not make a map of us, then––?
all reflection & non-linear equations,
light upon light to play on a practice
of not sleeping but holding
as marrowed minerals in bones
whisper another kind of living
light only the trembling know.
& sun flares in atmosphere
I am supposed to get to the point
––apparently, by the logic
of the algorithm
but I am
only ever able to teach
at an angle, on a curve, following
an penumbra’s long arc across unwritten skies.
whale music
to know
to be able to
to taste
to feel
only this how
i am because we are
& need know only this
& how machine will disagree
does not make it less true
but only more like the living
and less like the thing
whose badge of being
is of efficiency
& departure from
the dirt & blood
& flow of living
earth as she
remains
still
here
an offering
beyond product
or production
in echo
beyond
any other sound
however loud however
bleeding it leaves us in our ears
where we swim deep underwater & still here & here & here to hear us––
tho bleeding it leaves us in our ears however loud
however any other sound beyond in echo
still our offering here remaining
in dirt & bloodied waters
beneath you