Earth things
Oh mother
Let me breathe in
Your believed
Sex
Your fertile
Microcosm of
Earth thigs, earth things
Sweet sensuality
I was born
Of your sap
And drank from
Your womb
And wounds
So I could become
As I am,
Earth Thing.
To become beautiful again
I’ll lay my head in the meadow
To feel the tall grasses
Sweet grasses
Painting softness on my skin
Brushing pollen on my temples
To make still
To be still
Dusty skin
Back in the womb again
An impression of myself
Against
Aster
New England and blue top
And glowing on the ground with their golden
Rod
Where the pollinators make
Continual beelines right back to me
Moj cerdtse
To kiss violet
To smell yarrows
Earth tale
Squirrel tail
I’ll lay my head in the meadow
To allow my thoughts to
Drip down, deep down
Into dandelion roots
Detox
Until my mind
Runs smooth with honeybee honey
For lions’ teeth to heal
Deep in capillaries
And neural things
Are combs and comb
For safe keeping
For caterpillars
And winged things
To become
Beautiful again.
Fall
I collected the dill seed
For rainy days and
For yesterdays
In my pocket
Where hummingbirds
Retrieve
Dreams
From yesterdays
And memories
Awake in the
Soul and
Soil
Of terre firme
Fourth generation
Mother oh mother
Plucking hens
From great oaks
With ancient roots
So we can out stretch our limbs to match
And to be little
So little
Iota man
Lost in a dill seed
Where life erupts
from sleepy seeds
In spring
We release
The swallow’s tale
Summer quarantine
At the end of a gray day
When the weight of the
World felt
Heavy
With
Everything
All at once
I cooked all day to keep
My mind busy,
Rutabaga, Berry berry and mystery-no-meat beet burgers
And wished to see my family
And hug my mom again
We’d only bumped bows
Outside Michigan, near Ohio borders
My dear friends
Mushroom loving tender chicken
Winner
Dinner
Mother
Sends me photos
Of Lapi. Sulphuris
Young and tender
Weeping
Fruiting bathers and
Make meals to keep our minds busy
Or we put our hands in the dirt
To sniff the soil while the
Storm seems never ending
Even though the freeway pulses
With carbon dioxide
And urgent urgencies
While we dig up beet root
And get lost in the lotus
Leaves of cabbages
Green and unfolding
Protecting the prize
Of our collective sanity
We put our hands in that
good
black
dirt
To imagine the lives of others
Who need to feed
and who
Cook to keep busy.
Just like me
