Something, something
earth and lungs
and
this, this and that-
heart beating warm blood
and thisandthat
bones with breaking-
grief and roots
and blah blah
blood and bones.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
48/22
How many times do I have to say "I am the Earth" before you understand the implications?
You can grow your garden on my skin and take root right through my dura mater. Unfurl my nerves, string some stones as a necklace - and sing around the camp fire.
You can grow your garden on my skin and take root right through my dura mater. Unfurl my nerves, string some stones as a necklace - and sing around the camp fire.
47/21
I'm comfortable with the sound of my feet
hitting the ground ,
and with the size(and shape) of my breasts:
small and round, pink and shy.
The moon pulls out part of my uterine wall
every single month -
I'm used to that, too,
and how my skin eloquently
covers my bones without complaint.
I'm the dirt and also the air,
so, I'd like to say, my body
will be around forever -
filling the lungs of your children
and lighting up the poles
and making its way to the core of the sun
where hydrogen changes to helium.
Let me be immortal.
hitting the ground ,
and with the size(and shape) of my breasts:
small and round, pink and shy.
The moon pulls out part of my uterine wall
every single month -
I'm used to that, too,
and how my skin eloquently
covers my bones without complaint.
I'm the dirt and also the air,
so, I'd like to say, my body
will be around forever -
filling the lungs of your children
and lighting up the poles
and making its way to the core of the sun
where hydrogen changes to helium.
Let me be immortal.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
46/20: I have wild in me
I have wild in me.
It's something like running fast and
letting my teeth tear through flesh,
this unfettered body.
Royalty pumping in my blood,
becoming one with my wooden bow,
either yew, ash or elm.
I wield it, like my heart.
I let oils of dead leaves
soak into my skin while I put these
fingers right in the mud.
I decompose - one organ system
right after the other, beckoning the crows.
I am the wild in the earth,
roots and glass, and one thousand
queens;
my molecules
invading your lungs.
It's something like running fast and
letting my teeth tear through flesh,
this unfettered body.
Royalty pumping in my blood,
becoming one with my wooden bow,
either yew, ash or elm.
I wield it, like my heart.
I let oils of dead leaves
soak into my skin while I put these
fingers right in the mud.
I decompose - one organ system
right after the other, beckoning the crows.
I am the wild in the earth,
roots and glass, and one thousand
queens;
my molecules
invading your lungs.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
45/19
Sometimes the tree bark in my blood gives me a rest.
And i think the earth is turning like it should.
Something like feeling warm blood in your veins and
breathing in copious amounts of water through the air.
(His face is sweet like it was months ago
and his touch like it ever was)
Something like coming home
and realizing it never was me.
Something like loving hard and knowing the moon is
just reflecting.
And i think the earth is turning like it should.
Something like feeling warm blood in your veins and
breathing in copious amounts of water through the air.
(His face is sweet like it was months ago
and his touch like it ever was)
Something like coming home
and realizing it never was me.
Something like loving hard and knowing the moon is
just reflecting.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
44/18: *Building a beating heart*
Lately, it seems easier to just remember
how my bones broke apart when you
were around,
and how you knew exactly the items
to piece together for a
beating heart.
how my bones broke apart when you
were around,
and how you knew exactly the items
to piece together for a
beating heart.
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