March 9, 2005

today i speak of wet earth

of leaves in their seasoned red
and conservative green.
of flowers that bloom
and gather together
in their plains and valleys
and craters
and rainbow-colored streets.
of stalks that rise -
but less proud;
taking careful steps
to wake the roots
picking up needles one by one.

i do not disturb them
in their funny and silly distortions
as though artists in costumes
and masks of teeth
and cheeks
and sweet-smelling saliva.
i do not wake them from their prayerful stance.

i was told one should talk to the plants
even poke playfully
their pots
and the tips of their leaves.
but i grow distant from that suggestion
for every time i speak to them
they close their ears;
even eyes close
and petals sleep again.
my language may speak of love
and care
and admiration
but they will hear none of it
none of my words
and pauses.

so today i speak of wet earth
it is what i smell anyway
earth touching water in the early morning
coarse skin bathing in rivers
of love
and care
and admiration.
it travels towards me
and when i turn my mouth to it
it enters me through my ears
and through my mouth
and through my tongue.

and finally they set their stage
and they let me see them

1 comment:

patzz said...

very intuitive ver. :)


how 'bout we go some place. watch offbeat movies. gather in a small circle to read poetry. criticize ourselves. and eat afterwards. then sleepover. :) laid back ending for our laid back org.

ok ra among place na venue. have theater system sad for the movies. but if you have a better place ok ra sad. :)