You and what you love is bigger than the flesh of your body- it's connected to the earth. |
There are pieces in that bush in the backyard Whose spiky fronds turn pink on Sundays And lavender under the fireflies. In the sap, the spittle of the spit bugs And green horned things, aphids and spiders- there are pieces In the homes of these many-jointed gardeners. I believe that Some pieces are carried by the bees- their hairy black and yellow pulling Farther from home Pollen and sexy particles which mingle and find damp pleasure in the earth. Saplings sprout and I think Pieces are also budded in the blooms, given back To the bees, their queen, the joyous flight paths of those with wings- Carrying things in feathers back to the foliage that’s green and never falls, leaving the Mountains coated in emerald. Perhaps pieces dwell there as well In a forest, hidden hill side cave and In the smoke from the nightly fire keeping mosquitoes away. I know that pieces of me are madly warring Against wind, the breath of all mankind, a million exhales pushing Clouds closer to tomorrow’s mystery where I must Find, attempt to collect the elsewhere pieces and parts On stalks and air and winged things, In pine cones and places that can only be opened with fire. |