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Still-born Metamorphosis

If only you would not deny

when I tell you how sad I am

to hear you so hopelessly alone.

Could you be a bit scared?

Like the rest of us,

that just maybe this is it

and somehow I missed

while dreaming other strings

of theory about who we are,

you and I.

 

How do we deserve each other

in this life?

How do we dance incarnation’s

precision march through culture,

beliefs,

words,

norms,

language perhaps more sustainably waltzed,

and sung with full resonance,

to grow this tree of life,

spin dark Earth to reach dawn’s light,

to race winter’s season into warmer springs

of laughter, love,

and hearty hugs and memories,

worn rugs with stories gently

gracefully unraveling.

 

I understand it hurts to imagine

someone I love but cannot find

grounds for stable relationship,

leaving home on pilgrimage toward

a lifestyle of regenerative promise,

like turning my back on our potential

in search of a fool’s dream

to have only what I already have,

if I would only want you

just a bit harder,

longer,

more regeneratively.

 

Even so, your pilgrimage

already has my blessings

wherever, to whomever,

can bring you less loneliness

than I have,

and more love,

less fearful peace.

 

I don’t know how to love you

away from your cocoon,

and you’ve left no room for me inside

to metamorph together.

While I realize we made this mess together,

I see no way to clear it up

or live in it as is

other than embracing your cocoon,

by crawling up in mine.

 

If only I could not deny

when you tell me how sad you are

to hear me so hopelessly alone.

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Uncategorized

Seasonal Temperaments

Falling breeze sweeps winter’s advent psalms,

before this Great Return,

before spring’s gratitude,

cold shouldering attitude of deep sad ecology,

underlying Earth’s crisp frosty skin,

Mother’s richly warm composting womb

weeping advent

hibernapping cocoon

quietly composting metamorph,

dark grey diastatic revolution,

polyculturing baptism issuing second birth,

our EarthTribe Species,

Shaman Warriors,

Femalist Caretakers

co-regenerating

mentor seeds predicting our future Tree of Life

producing leaves of days of seasons

green,

diversely spectral, falling,

barren,

budding,

then green again,

growing fertile flowers, future generosity,

each informed seed predicting future efficacious roots,

reaching down and out

generating tender tendril networks

from inclusive fertile wealth,

investments sapping succulance,

cooperative heartbeats,

breathing interdependently,

symbiotically,

synergetically,

radiantly toward ecological regenerates,

health-systemic leaves,

producing an abundant crop

of air for Mom to breath

as She gives labor to this

Her last Great Transition

to produce a balancing bipolarity,

by reducing Left-brained Yang-convexish domidance,

slow-growing cooperative eco-normic EarthTribe,

not so much competing ego-manic SelfStamped-Pride.

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Uncategorized

Dipolar Flight

We fly together

expained the hen.

Or crawl separately?

implied the worm.

Our choice?

asked the hen.

To informate or calculate

irrationally

too negative

not double-bound enough,

forgetting (0) graced balance

and swooping octaved harmonies,

imagined flights with distant cousins,

replied the longish worm.

 

Birds and butterflies!

said the hen.

Comets and stars,

leptons and quarks,

yin and yang,

surfing systems up and down

around and back again,

sighed cavish cocoon.

 

We fly together,

or dissonantly burn and bury

and throw ourselves,

our nutrients,

positive-exformating value,

away,

sang regenerating radiant song,

 

Where they will

eventually

learn to crawl together

toward regenerated flight,

ventured the pregnant butterfly.

 

The sky is falling!

said the hen.

Or you have taken flight,

said the worm,

de-caying in the hen.

 

We fly together!

exclaimed the hen.

And crawl together,

implied her wormish warmth.

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