not completely solitary
and stupid, scary
except that I am, I am
scurrying up to Mt. Saint Helens last night I laid deep in the ash — burrowing an aperture some six-foot-three; a taller-two-unit benevolence. Crawling inside, shoveling the ashes with cupped hands into a stifling, sooty roof, I pulled the particles in through my mouth, and on into my lungs. Embers, cinders, scoria and slag — some seaweed and kelp in this awful ocean!
And I could know the moon hung hard on its indigo precipice, shouting:
“From Dust You Came! From Dust You Came!”
dust, with some semblance of Life. If
I can at all accept, this
among the most beautiful
paradox — welcome most
when most unwelcome.
Give without promise to
receive, be dust, if dust
might perceive.
Welp. That was supposed to post (Suppost?) a month ago. August 26, 2009.
& now am I
bet | in | ween,
atsametime
on E-
ither side, circle . circle
in, close
out, b r e a t h e
A plane
Overhea(r)d
North
I am a bird
A pilot
Child