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Notes:
These
words, currently: a means of overriding concussive moments,
which water memory; of re-ordering soil structure: is it my
body that's heavy, sinking deeper among the snapping and electric,
or is it the water itself, weighing me down, one among jewels?
Of re-structuring soil orders working when biological, when
concomitant with organs and blood flow. To consider is an
improvement upon order and structure both. As for the biology
of things, there is an elaborate history of suckering and
error -- including contemporary "organics" and post -- that
needs to be bedded and burned of romance and/or misunderstanding,
and loss built upon loss and neglect, with words, currently.
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Bird
a ctuary
We saw no birds
today
our preoccupations distracted us mud
sleeving the limbs of the trees in coming
waves, the spiny fruits of thoughts
hard hemming the cover of witness
over tail feathers; fledging birds rest
less in the rustling glands of reeds.
We too are
fat and feeling
it, the felt woosh whose
angry eyes
and accusatory beak quarter our beliefs
of what these birds, if any, have
to give, to banquet with song
and shit naturalisms of the under
whelm.
We
were never fit
for wanting more than light and intimate
emptiness, though we've gotten it
tided to us with the risk of not possessing any
thing to claim as walking, to claim
a loss on.
++
Orphaning
the Earth
Just who is that
standing there
in the hallway?
Spilling buds
of property on the mat?
'e or 'e, who
has been
en trusted
with the legacy of this this
acceptable
rape?
*
Farmers gather
together
in their dwindling
to decide upon
their ritual
foreclosure: We've
put in,
we're
pulling out.
We've
made much, no doubt,
of
doubts, of teas
of
corpse:
of
horsetail, of manure,
of
comfrey;
sodden,
reach
and
leeching.
*
They've been
around for rhizome
snaps, you'll suffer the ropes and ever,
bringing things from off-farm,
and folding them in among the native
dignitaries; watering and letting the soil
dry out, resting their chins in the dirt
for a first glimpse of cotyledons
digging their way out of that sable,
as if on assignment
a
gutless hope --
patsies
lain by
green
and copper
and
railed to a hollow
rib
of drip tape.
They're seeing
the influence of explosion,
which says: here
it is,
all
the scouring
that
you can suffer,
all
the seeds
that
you can measure
in
your fist,
all
the seeds and more:
expired
or checked
peering
broken
from
spending
,
gorged, black
with
waste and die-out
;
here is all you can
mule
across the clear-
cuts,
absolutely hatched,
absolutely
. . .
Now
run along to your beds,
raised,
grave sustainers,
to
your orchards,
your
orcharding
lace,
and fuck,
and
learn it
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