Allowing for ways to repair what mild damage has ruptured.

A gesture, a guessing of eyes in the milk, a carnage

White as sky; a mind deprived will lie

On mouth-roof stone, words poisoned, reasoned

With felled emaciation, starvation of the accident,

Precedent of home, stores and well, water thicker now,

A comb of honey in blackened hair, udder and stinger,

Laser and candlelight, birthright nothing


oh fool, oh fool, oh fool...the dance is becoming

the dance is becoming

becoming over

nothing

becoming



*

Afternoon adendum:

I spent the last four hours doing landscape work for an elderly woman that used to live across the street from me and the ex-. She's a very nice person, pays really well, and gets out there and works with you, never cracking the whip and always lavishing elaborate and grateful praise. I don't mind traveling ten miles to get there. I do it out of love, respect, and friendship.

Today I was laying down top-soil over her back garden in which I had planted big grass-clumps two weeks ago. Wonderful experience...I moved ten, forty pound bags to the back yard, opened them up to find such moist, lush, rich smelling dirt... deeply, thoroughly wet and malleable, succulently organic. Deep, almost black, in color. The scent nearly made my mouth water. I put it down in piles and spread it around with my hands, walking and scooting on my knees, getting it embedded under my nails, and stained into my life-lines and fingerprints. No gloves, thank you!

If you don't live in Georgia, you wont understand my enthusiasm. Our soil here, in the Atlanta area, is virtually Martian. Hard and red, rough and tough...too firm. When dug into, it's like half dried terra-cotta. Doesn't give, doesn't take.
It's almost like it's angry and hibernating, full of secrets, and tight lipped into densely-packed layers of stress.

Red. Seething.

Difficult.


This was living earth I moved, today.

And it was rejuvinating...

*