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Terra Dea |
Too long a time it seems
since you laid eyes on Earth in the
splendor of her naked elegance. Dirt and
roots, rot and growth, tremorous
movements of crawling, flying, slithering
things are as the pristine, crystal works of
clocks and music boxes. Wind gives
breath to the strange precisionary
martinets of chaos who seem to have no
knowing of coming or going.
Soil and moss, rotting
leaves never seemed so clean as now.
Concrete is dirty, defiled, sticky fouled
with the monsters of the microbial
microcosm.
Reading for the inner
treasures while the rest read for
recreation.
Don’t know where you walk
on the wheel of creation.
Somewhere between
unity and annihilation,
Somewhere between
plastic and perma-culture,
Somewhere between
banquets and the vitamin and cigarette
square meal,
Somewhere between
nerve-propelled tweakfest and the slow
and ambient stirrings of the opium
dream.
Somewhere there’s an
edge that works,
a workable fix,
a fix that’s workable,
a work that’s fixable,
a fixation with a work.
A knife edge is cradled
somewhere between torporous plush
boredom and the regimented over-
achieving, determined, demented.
“Is anything worth
doing?”
Answer with action and
you blow the show.
Do nothing and stir
yourself crazy.
Can’t sit still when
you’re alone.
Caught up in knowing
the cost of survival,
yet knowing there’s no
way you can allow the sinking into sack-
ass mediocrity,
yet knowing that you can
never really know.
You can only walk with
the mystery.
Something so hidden you
want to make known.
Something you own up
to, yet she reflects it so fully back to you.
How long since you
embraced her?
Fettered and cinched in
her concrete, pavement bodice of
blackened dirty ribbon, she strains to
breathe. She rages; she storms; she
quakes.
Tears spring forth in the
lament of bygone times of barely
remembered tenderness.
Tenderness warmed by
the fiercest star. Now its blare, its glare, a
reminder that every particle is waiting to
fly in every direction.
Now she wanders the
void. The homeless one in whom the
souls make their home.
How long since you
embraced her?
copyright 2006
Adam
Lowis |
