Mosses: Volatize? Stabilize?
(There is another
world
but it is inside
this one.)
tranquility—vast, unencumbered,
terrifying, and primal.
That
naked river…
Forrest
Gander
Madonna
Del Parto
It’s come down
to a question
of when: when do
when
should
or
even
do
or if
I
should
The moss
that’s gathered
into her own
like a com-
munity on
the stone
or stones—
the poet
the other
day said
lichen
doesn’t die
and his
wife who was
a famous
poet died
she did
she died
in her sleep
suddenly
and without
notice.
But she’s not
lichen—
maybe
in some way
his thinking
is kind
of like
prayings
that are
lichen
and he
passes them
on to us
to nudge
our way
into
elbow
knee
to settle
into
the settled
cervices
and grow
our own
deeps
grow our
own sighs
grow
our own
children to
release and maybe
let what
brought us
here
become
our feet
folded
beneath us
the way
praying
beings do
or deer
or any
ruminant
who bend to
one knee then
the other
until all
four legs
are
folded under
their warm
torso
and if
a child
or a small
surface
bug
nudged
the nipple
there’d be
calm enough
to go around
for the long
settled
for the just
settled—
for the rooted
ones and
the rutted ones
and the ones
whose hollow
hairs
are filled
with what sun
is offered
and keeps
it for when
inevitably
the night
comes on.
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