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gravity you can cut with a scalpel

We’re all under her trembling web
But not the prey caught above
our own shadows preceding
As we so casually into
Blistering night
Tire irons
Or did a branch of a greater cotton wood
Reach out and grasp at me
But I left in thankless saunter
As driftwood would wander
And wind down the river
Looking up at every branch
tied down by relentless roots and thick fractal of foliage
I am not one of you
I am not one of you
I was released ancient upstream and long above
So long I am now smooth of river stones
Tirelessly worn
Wood that is no longer tied to any aspect of
Green growth sap honey dew faux white ghost of fall born fruit
The drift wood only IS in dying
I had to bow to warm passing
Turn dry and charcoal and gray
In order that I
Could achieve that release of chlorophyll and free will
It’s beautiful to be bound
Stitched to the rotten blood rich ground
Fecundity, plasma,  ovary, and tributary
But why do please so gingerly
I desire to float wild
And be ugly of sublime Graces
That blow kisses like light storm borealis
In the pageant of godless outer space
Where is that aluminum foil blanket?
that keeps arctic paralysis at bay
Keeps traveler subordinate to photosynthesis
If I could feed off reflection of city lights
In the black water that laps so secretly below the thick cape of
What time is it anyway?
How I would have finally caught up with my own element
Have become too drenched to smolder in the fire pit

6 Mar 16

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