July 12, 2019

"i" in sundial

The thing fell was a seed and I was to carry it unconsciously
If the knowing is noun should I still take as taken?
Taken along in my pocket for putting
With putting the question is possession
and how much possessing is taken from carrying?
If the knowledge is everywhere can it be still
Be stilled into the parted parts
between the seed and me

Leaf legacies relax with the thought of being compelled
like you can have me you can use me
What else do I do with all this vomit of my selfhood
Ouch that puddle pinches
dribbling at the reflection of the freckles me and freckles leaf
A solidarity in the falling sun that is not for us

There are ribbons farewelling
on the tree the tree
is polyester but the ribbons are real
hidden in pain’s sight
Cruel in the sky
a world minority is a planet too,
a petal open wide
to let untie a whisper
Inside the seed
a secret that it knew how to hold
beneath the crumple of the earth

How far can it go,
a sound is a noun
How quickly to
pushing the accent of a rock
like the weight of a body being supported
In these sounds I know I’m alive enough
The shined grass grassing as much for sun, for dirt,
for we that the rocks listen for listened forgettingly
How long it takes to forget the sound
that doesn’t serve you
the sound that doesn’t survive