Friday, March 30, 2012

squatch thoughts, fith


Rain falls onto our bodies, men, them drops fall from our hair; from my long arm, from your stubbed hands, men, they tumble. Them drops fall to the homeground, men, they feed it. That’s water, men.

pulse rivers men

Them drops, men, that rain, run from our bodies, men, run over the ground, men; run to creek, run to river, run to lake, men. We are water, men; our blood is water; our blood runs. Our bodies are a pulsing river, men; our bodies are a muddy lake. Murky water, men, that’s us. Scratch chin, men, rub stubbed hands. Wonder, men. Think rain!

Take it in, men. Water yourselves. Water, yourselves. Bend to creek, bend to river. Kneel there, men. 

See me! Scoop creek to mouth, feed the river, men. See me! Scoop river to mouth, men, feed the lake. See me rise, men, fed with rain. See me step long, men; see me turn to water deep in the trees, men; see my step melt into the homeground. See me escape your measure.

Water beats into the homeground, through my steps, men, and beats through the veins of trees, rising up, men, blood rising to the sun in bursts of green leaf clouds.

Hear me, men, them treeleaves are green water. Drink them in. See them turn to rain; them leaves breathe water into the sky, men; their water rises to the sun and their spent bodies tumble to the homeground, men, to feed it.

Turn to rain, men, make for the sun; tumble down men, to the homeground, spent leaves. Feed it!

dead men; homeground, fed

1 comment:

  1. Me n the dogs will scoop from the lakes today Squatch, and it will be glorious!

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