F.R. Rhyne (2019-2020)
1 – 8, Speech
roll your tongue, pushing
pulling air into your lungs
spitting out the truth
It sounds like, “Ahem,”
“Hmmm,” “Uhhhhh,” “Ungh,” “Ach,” “I…don’t know…”
how to speak it clear…
a quiet phrasing
sun scent of warming grasses
softer expression
thin reed whistle sound
pitched like the tilt of a bird’s wing
cutting bright air clean
comes as a stumble
breaking wavelet memory
grit of sand, breadfruit
warmly sticky hands
fatigue of dirt road laughing
symphony at night
sour sweet brother breath
heavy sigh as puppies sleep
adults speaking low
almost separate
a photograph held lightly
“Was this us? Really?”
9 – 12, Before Time
…there are no word-sounds
for the beginning movements,
before anything
What was there? Expanse?
Just a void-full vacuum space?
An empty socket?
There can be no wind,
if nothing moves a muscle.
No wind, no muscles.
so conspicuous,
the absence of everything
we might call ‘alive’
13 – 17, Melding
arrangements were made
atom configurations
created the spark
Ain’t got a name, no
or a mind like our new minds
no sense of itself
no imagined time
or knowledge of space beyond
nothing but knowing
Knowing not like us,
but, moving without effort
without intention
The sweetest pulling
elemental attraction
bonds beyond breaking
18, Initial Questions
Was there a whisper,
a murmuring in the dark?
Did the first cells sigh?
19 – 23, Utterances
beautiful, we were
in all the ways we have been
alive and dying
The snow and ice
the fires and beasts, new life
not knowing what comes
oh, to remember
that the world was here before
we discovered names
…all so long ago,
there is no one who can tell,
can’t speak that story.
silent origins
are not soundless, listen here:
speech without talking
25 – 28, Without Knowing
bromeliads grew
and the lizards sprouted wings
it took a good while
before winding clocks
or any imagining
of long nighttime hours
slow living and death
just as daily as it is now
without knowing time
there was no distance
no measurement of the miles
nothing had a name
29, Truth
the land was nameless
there was no way to say ‘home’
no one to say ‘home’
30 – 33, Innation
all creatures know, tho’…
creation lessons taught them
where they can survive
all things born knowing
what they crave and what they fear
DNA knowledge
To run, to jump, dig
to eat grubs, seeds, fish, algae
to keep on living
Pituitary
endocrine and thyroid gland
signaling us: Grow.
34 – 35, 4 Ws
We learn as we go
the sourness and sickness,
the sweetness and warmth
we thrive or falter
depending on when and where
who, what we are born
36, Truth (2)
for some of us here
life is a slow-blinking eye
over and done, gone
37 – 40, Instinct
the first words were grunts
howls, songs sung without singing
the scream of murder
storms were almighty
new hominids had no gods
death-fear was instinct
the striving of life
required no will at all
it was natural
To seek out food, hunt
to gather, drink water from leaves
these were not choices
41, Truth(3)
oceans did not choose
the rhythm of tidal flow
rain falls without choice
42 – 46, Anthro
afarensis, comprende?
Australopithecus, yo?
Old Lucy no se
it became a job
to dig up hundreds of bones
study the fragments
unearth the sacred
Use the most delicate brush
remove dirt from teeth
Lay out the bodies
rib cage, femur, mandible
marvel at the skulls
Ethiopia
Tanzania, Olduvai
footprints left in ash
47 – 50, Naming
our ancestors died
howling in the flaming heat
without knowing death
Homo habilis
Long prior to the Maasai
Place of wild sisal
The Great Rift Valley
one million years ago, man
Kariandusi
These are made up names
for places we claim to know
as ours to lay claim
51 – 54, History
Thick walls enclosing
the city-town of Jericho…
why did they need walls?
Catal Huyuk held
spaces for worship, women
made of stone and clay
Organized villages
created special labors
jobs and roles, talents
Tasks took on value
products emerged in surplus
trade began, tribes fought
55 – 57, In Modern Rendition
How does this show up
thousands of years later?
Colonial turf wars
even kids know it
colors become codified
Street sign boundaries
Elder mothers mourn
keep their own pistols loaded
Please God, watch over us.
58 – 61, of Weaponry
The earliest tools
were not made of rock and sharp bone
clawed hands were weapons
Closing into fists
strong, rough like worn-out leather
Dirt under broken nail
Never enough food
Had to learn to kill a deer
Satisfy hunger
The thrill of the hunt
predatory lust writ deep
makes human hearts beat
62 – 66, Where We Came…
go to the river
each day, every morning
wash away the blood
tell us the story
of the animals’ escape
speak in native tongue
myths of creation
shape the world as we see it
center us or them
have to be careful
of the tales we tell children
about who they are
Where did we come from?
Not our bodies, our cells, bones –
the naming of us.
67 – 70, From
Judaculla’s rock
sits speaking in the forest
speaks silent under trees.
Spelling a story
lines cut into the hard rock
for the future ones
Maps are like stories,
stories are like maps, like guides
telling us the way
Children taking turns
wander through woods far from home
name them “good” or “bad”
71 – 78, Prior
There were buffalo
clear to the ocean, huge herds
land belonged to them
This place was their home
the fields and the valley grass
their bones are still here
The water flowing
here, right on through the mountains
thousands of years old
mountains were jagged
Earth slamming into itself
rocks jutting from collisions
Broken pottery
found in the soil below banks
worn smooth at the edges
the flow of the streams
in places now dry, barren
written as ridges
From above, the lines
look just like your fingerprints
swirled sand beaches
Before we could fly
everything was smaller
and yet still so vast
81 – 88, Forging
roots grow persistent
somehow breaking through hard stone
making small pathways
In the night, rocks fall
land heavy and stay forever
or til they erode…
it’s not a secret:
there is no forever here
it’s easy to see.
Yawn, oh great cloud break
not witnessed in the pre-dawn
opening above
The breath of owl song
a thread through trees, pushing soft
making sound-cut spaces
Tilt of the orbit
positions a planet near
closer to the moon
The woman pauses
never noticed that before
Looking up, surprised
There are slim chances
brief windows, prime conditions
sap rise, season shift
89 – 95, Forests
No words for the sound
capillaries opening
eyes dilating wide
Tremble of vein stretch
cellulose walls forming up
to become an oak
Entire empires thrive
tucked in around the root web
pulsing in dark soil
scientists can hear
by way of lines on paper
amplification
voices from the trees
the subaudible gasping
bite of the chainsaw
how to amplify
millions of hearts beating fast
terrified in flight
pass the mic over
colonies of insects scurry
carry out big plans
96 – 100, Archae
Skilled human being
2.5 million years ago
Homo habilis
it was crucible
the birth place, cradling us
civilization
Land was colored gold
and gods lived everywhere
in everything
winds and fires speak
tell what those who came before
wish us to know, hear
secrets conjured up
feet hit the ground, dust rising
bones shake, rattle, roll
101 – 107, Habit
be invisible
walk without touching the ground
do not make a sound
cover the smell up
with crushed leaves, sharp scent, thick mud
leave no tracks, no trace
Hold the arrow lightly
let it be a part of you
send the point flying
Homo sapiens
the thinking human being
moved outward, naming
Paleolithic
stone tools to cut, smash, break
all with bloody hands
When the ice came
there was no lamenting cold
no questioning death
We didn’t see it
had no way to predict rain
unstoppable floods
108 – 110, Innovate
Speech was simple code
utterance and gesturing
pitch to make meaning
sequences set firm
names for flames and lions, sky
sounds for who we are
in all four corners,
seeds were sown, barley millet
rice wheat lentils corn
How did it happen?
That we suddenly knew how
to grow food to eat?
Burgeoning, winning
the thrust of diving hawk flight
cutting through the fields
111 – 115, Alchemy
our life histories
begin with the history
of all before us
They carried whispers
small stirrings that make breezes
from the prior ages
They made the world new
from mud, stars, from their own blood
they breathed life into…
they still exist, gods
even if we don’t know their stories
Don’t see them in wind
we were directed
our organs pulsed with humors
blood was once magic
116 – 121, Numinosity
schematics and maps
drew a firmament dome, hands
in the human form
world in our image
not in God’s image, in ours
at least some of ours…
Early ones knew well
that man was imperfect, crude
not like the great beasts
The ones with horns
with wings and fins, lionine
crafting the storms
There were spirit forms
and powerful dark beings
exist, still unseen
Holy books are full
cloudforms speaking, fire and blight
all the miracles
122 – 127, Composite
Look closely, breathe in
count the layers in silence
stratification
When I look at you
salt stings my eyes, I tremble
welcomed home again.
how can the clouds hold
water in the shapes of bears
briefly showing themselves?
birth of rare fever
blooming jewel of Africa
blood-colored flowers
Craving to eat stones
let them rest under the tongue
to spit or swallow
shines like dew, slug trails
dash of stars, the Milky Way‘s
constituent parts
128 – 134, -onyms
Timucuans lived
had numerous settlements
all along rivers
Names for homeplaces
never knew them to forget
“ancient history”
Never such a thing
as a “Timucuan” tribe
Spanish mispronounced
Exonyms misheard
Double mistakes in hearing
become the name known
Letters we use say
nothing of the sounds spoken
such crude translations
Two hundred thousand
more than all that died in wars
in one hundred years
that was just one tribe
one people among many
whose names we don’t know
135 – 139, Panther
in the night, she walks
slow and careful, listening
for raccoons, possums
eyes glint gold in dark
thick insect symphony sounds
rhythms for hunting
wild boars aren’t careful
they get busy, distracted
rooting, face in dirt
It’s almost easy
to run into the pack, claws out
and grab what you can
scattering screaming
everything exploding
in movement and fear
140 – 143, Sensing
In the forest shade
a tiny life moves fast, light
under leaves cool, damp.
Talon on the branch
sharper than made by machines,
perfect feathering.
The wave of a pulse,
and the night quivers alive
with unseen currents.
I’m far from the owl.
There’s too much to do everyday,
to sense a heartbeat.
144 – 148, 1984
My great grandmother
Hands like crepe baby birds
She was a racist
I remember this
at intervals, dawn
and right before sleep
Who and where and what
we are, the people, places
that gave birth to us
It all rushes in
adrenaline, cortisol
spitting out the words
refusal to go
Unsegregated swimming
1984
149 – 158, Combat
Their jawlines were smooth
tho’ hands were rough from working
holding rusted guns
Men, closed offices
drawing lines, cartography
X marks the target
my brother, your kin
became numbers, troops deployed
to die for ideas
Sleep was a joke, son
No rest for the weary there
under hellfire rain
Dream never again
no softness, no golden fields
just red explosions
it’s a trick, you see
to turn men into machines
to command their will
soil holds vibrations
sings rusted earth elegies
lay your head down, son
a monarch catches
air currents undetected
becomes transparent
walls crumble in wind
ultraviolet light dissolves
clay and stone, slowly
reports ring out, CRACK
doesn’t it split your head wide?
cities up in smoke
159 – 165, Multiplicities
In the midst of war
starvation, emergency
grasses softly blow
In dark, lives away
Gunshots ring out across town
the fire burns warm
smart submarines rest
in channels dredged from the deep
bombs in their bellies
show security badge
drive through armed gate, go slowly
everything is filmed
Trains come, broad daylight
take new spur line to the north
carrying supplies
Lockheed Martin watches
Trident Training officers
show the simulated launch
take a deep breath now
all your friends are doing it
step onto the rails
166 – 172, Entrope
You spend days waiting
looking for the envelope
but don’t want to know
You can’t get away
from news on every screen
garish smiling faces
“This isn’t real! No!”
You want to shake their shoulders
“Wake up! It’s not real!”
It feels like ice, cold
hollow like a dying tree
how real it all is
dailyness of days
the whirlwind blur not seeing
but, moving forward
Sometimes the movements
are small, stuck tight round and round
some motion skitters
There are tangles, traps
vines of kudzu, stay busy
forever growing
173 – 180, Edu
fog creeps at dew point
Early morning siren sounds
distorted, screech owls
why is the moon located
in the wrong part of the sky
easternly crescent
secrets do not lie
in obsidian spaces
between the trees
‘Cept what do we have
a light sweeping ‘round bushes
crackling footsteps
people live in woods
sleep under tarps with wet shoes
right by middle schools
there is chain link fence
and so i feel safe, ashamed,
fearing poverty
That is my secret.
Nature doesn’t keep secrets
people keep secrets
Even to ourselves
we hide the truth, who we are,
what we learn in school
181 – 187, Peri-
cadence of footfalls
dry brush of cardboard boxes
thudding gravity
rubber wheels cheapen
nuance of selecting meat
unsanitized hands
To walk like a whisper
imagine air as body
and watch where you step
you can be soundless
almost anyway – quiet
quieter than most
unspool the wires
use the hammer to break glass
open up the line, please
She felt it, knew it
Somewhere over the mountain tops
where Chance is slow born
Full crowning takes years
and it’s easy to forget
we are in birth-time
188, (…)
body as air, rise
don’t try to beat gravity
it doesn’t exist
189 – 192, Micro/Macro
Middle of the night
hands find each other
simple human ways
The mother holds child
walks down the dirt road, pointing
there is goldenrod
They don’t stop walking
to look closer at the blooming
four kinds of bees feed
We see the whole scene
offer up broad brush coding
details become blurred
193 – 198, Coverings
We learned to weave wool
spin silk from mulberry trees
invented clothing
Polyester viscose blend
in polymers mixed to make
color of rainbows
Cover yourself, girl!
Out here nekkid in the yard –
what you thinkin’, child?
The door can close, lock
sheets smell like sunshine
or something like that
Sunshine has no smell
the scent you call sunshine fresh
chemical odor
Sunshine fresh means clean
clean means decent, and decent –
who knows what that means?
199 – 203, Carryings
Late model sedan
riding up and down the road
looking for ladies
“Need a ride, honey?”
window rolls down slow
man leans over, grins
not riding the bus
they talk at the bus stop
smoking cigarettes
Don’t talk about them,
children with names like Justice,
names like Hope and Faith
They don’t exist here
man smiling midnight, “Get in…”
opens the car door
204, Carryings(2)
they sleep still knowing
the sound of their mothers’ voices
even in dreaming
205 – 211, Relations
Ms. Social Worker
comes without calling, knocks loud
we know what it means
learned to be ready
keep the floors cleaned with Pine Sol
quick, go change the baby
Mama’s hands shake now
clatter the dishes, nervous
moving like a squirrel
they took my brother
didn’t seem to care nothin’
‘bout his crying out
He reached back to us
straining against the holding
arms straight out, grasping
was late afternoon
with the sun gold orange through pines
light, a good feeling
Officer knew us,
played football back in highschool
Mama was pretty.
212 – 214, Enter
we were all there then
my brother playing with me
in the yard, dirty
We were throwing sticks
that landed to make dust rise
dog started barking
Fence gate latch clanking
world coming in, wearing pumps
carrying clipboards
215, Yardwork
You pull the grass rough
grimace and claw, rip, tear, pop
rhizomal network
216 – 222, Sowing
To plant nasturtium
bury the seeds deep to wait
away from all light
Soak them in water
if you want to play like God
mimic the spring rain
Notice, important
the way the hulls look like brains,
gonads, ovaries
You don’t know just yet
what color the blooms will be
only that they will come
at least you hope so
pushing finger, tunneling
making birth canals
A cluster, no rows
the edge of the fence, near gate
a constellation
stretch of sunny days
unfurl like sweet promises
of orange, maybe red
223 – 228, Inside
The heft of the door,
hard seats, a screen of faces.
Print the yellow pass.
Go up, air is warm…
stuffy indoors, fluorescent…
bang, metallic sound.
Looks in people’s eyes…
speech, smile, vocal timbre…words
like a preacher says.
“Then, dude, 45…”
*hand held like a loaded gun*
“Can’t say shit ‘bout it.”
“You leave a person…”
“Alone like that, after that…”
“Man, it is not good.”
Everyone is a child
When they speak of unfairness,
the anger of all.
229 – 237, Context
Automatic doors
smell of plastic petroleum
home goods product lines
box architecture
all right angles, empty space
mimics containers
“Fill ‘er up?” “Yes, sir.”
this product is known to cause
cancer, explosions
discharge static
before fueling, touch something
electricity
hovers and buzzes
tingling, lurch, bundle and build
a haze of lightning
tiny bolts surround
gather electrons, lose them
a frenzy dance
they say the earth hums
emits constant noise unheard
makes me want to cry
Stand in the center
city swirls roaring around
great din of commerce
rises like vapor
wave crossing wave, tangling
webs shudder on lines
229 – 235, Famine Lands
They named the disease
after the first child hunger
never enough milk
The river banks steam
swarming with flies, no water
the bodies of fish
Places where grass will grow
someday for a moment, two
a generation
There is no food here
There is nothing to eat here
We are starving here
Low wail across plains
for the sons and the daughters
the kin taken far
Taken for the tusks
Taken for the strength of backs
the cords of muscle
In the world they made
Every thing has a price
despite sacred life
236 – 245, Processions
Sovereign beings all
Every creature that lives
that has ever lived
Encased in plastic
perspectives of worth
mutable and made cheap
How can we forget
The soil itself is old bones
of trees, men, and birds?
no matter trying
we cannot manufacture
water with machines
So, wring your hands, sir
Under the table, listen
there is no way out
Take the direction
opposite to the road home
walk into the dark
…day before you left
did you kneel on the ground there?
Touch the dirt and weep?
“Don’t go!” I cry out,
“Stay where you are, stay at home!”
“…you will die here, too.”
The desert lands wait
for your footsteps
migration rhythms
Desperate parade
Stooped figures travel at night
Milky Way watching
246 – 250, Deals
The starched napkins lay
Crumpled doves dinner
Plucked quick by brown hands
On the southeast side
there is no light of day shining
through the small windows
The briefing took place
in a locked room, underground
monitors record
The world will never
be the same again, any day
any second passing
There are small stirrings
noticing the child’s eyes flash
saying: “You are bad.”
251 – 255, Flee
The cities grow, sprawl
Patterning metastasis
we cannot control
Men, names like punches
that you won’t ever know, speak
holler from corners
The wives and children
huddle in rooms warm, fetid
waiting for the word
Go, go now, time comes
Mother’s blue bowl broke, oh well
one of many things lost
In the mix with bones
of trees, men, and birds, find
small fragments of glass
256 – 262, Transition
Chemicals derived
Taxus brevifolia
Kill cells good and bad
bone marrow suffers
stops making blood, hair falls out
the Pacific Yew.
My father cries now
Talks about morphine, hospice
what will happen next.
My mother’s hands, birds
resting quiet and folded
at peace in her lap
“Please come tomorrow,”
“Come whenever you can,”
“Please visit with me.”
“I’ll miss you too much,”
she says this by the flowers,
blooming brief, brightly.
How can I help her
to know and to deep-believe:
the dead miss nothing?
263 – 272, Transition(2)
The end of day comes
with my mother looking far
down the field, away
Father talked to owls
Calling soft the other night
now I hear them, too
dying has a gaze
all it’s own, mortality
written in the eyes
Oval loops in dark
running fast to feel Alive
before the sunrise
The curve of the track
Catches footstep sounds, echoes
Following faintly
I saw this morning
a bright star beside the moon
never seen before
Remember the night
at the mouth of the canyon?
The galaxy edge?
We could only see
if we didn’t try too hard,
only with soft eyes
My second born child
asked me to watch the sunrise
Of course I said: “yes.”
We saw a raven
flying low, everything
suddenly golden
273 – 279, Evolute
when industry boomed,
were birds scared of factories?
smoke and noise, machines
we watched moths turn dark
to hide in soot-covered trees
why are we surprised?
Evolution day
every moment we change
die and born again
Wise apoptosis
billions dying all the time
learning from what was
slow down, speed up, flinch
the smell of cherry blossoms,
laboratories
Atlanta, Georgia:
mice were afraid of flowers
remember the shock
Fear imprints with ease
more than love, more than comfort
Cortisol teaches
280 – 289, Old Boys
Put on your holsters
you old boys, with wagging tongues
and secret meetings…
Swallow the bullets
you’ve been saving up for us
in the name of Father
The lead sits heavy
in your soft pink gut-belly
feels heavy like fear
Hear the sound they make,
breaking the water’s surface,
setting old ghosts free?
Don’t you burn no cross,
don’t you burn no church ‘round here.
I know who you are.
I came from you, man.
Your voice sounds like home,
the place that I left.
No white robe can hide
the truth of who you are now –
scared and pink, confused.
Dirty hands, salt earth
caught under your fingernails
the bone, the marrow
Heft that anchor weight,
the blood-swollen decks creaking
with the roll of waves.
Speak your daddy’s name.
Your great great grand? Say it, too.
Ask them to tell you.
290 – 298, Stupid ?’s
Atlanta, Georgia:
When a white woman passes
Men learned to look down
No need to say why,
they were bowing their heads, pray
to Emmett Till’s ghost
You want to know why?
Smart as all you people are?
Asking is insult.
It doesn’t take brains
to notice people dying
in the streets, shot down
Do you not see it?
This whole motherf*ckin’ place
built by slave labor
Wall Street worried now,
‘bout the collapse of what was
never theirs to own
energy it took
to build this country, this wealth
rape economy
glib motherf*ckers
eating their f*cking lunches
hands bloody as hell
How dare you ask why.
Incredulous. Idiots.
You really don’t know.
299 – 306, Multiplicities(2)
Lives no longer live.
Old cotton gathering dust.
The space breathes in, out.
A declaration:
“Anxiety opposite
of humility.”
dancing the slow dance,
the steady turning of Earth.
“Oh, how she lights up!”
A blur of grasses
Gives way to edge, the township
fences along roads
The world seemed insane,
but it didn’t bother me
more than a quiver.
Flash of moving screen,
brief and inspecific weight
shifting in my core.
Before the sun came up
the elder woman walked slow,
a moving treadmill.
Watching the reel play
silent, muted, on flat screen,
no certain futures.
307 – 311, Stagger
distance between worlds
one person to another
a moment passing
we adjust quickly
our adaptability
new realities
We forget the names
creatures extinct, this century
whole histories lost
rushing toward the new
we tear down what was sacred
spewing exhaust fumes
left alone too long
it all goes back to the wild
strong instincts of plants
312 – 321, No Frontera
All weariness gone
watch under ponderosa
hummingbird cloud sky
desert night is long
Factory Butte lit by moon
illuminated like day
equisetum lashes
legs scratched and burning red raw
prehistoric plants
how human to see
fire in the sky as God’s work,
something like magic
small rocks hold color
like the big hills and mesas
similarity
dead truck container
virtual reality
Arizona road
Ravens flash black wing
a suburbanite is stunned
valley of the gods
Canyons sleep sundown
Pinyon quiet windless night
the beautiful wild
The grass catches light
shining golden afternoon
rarely seen glowing
Quiet breathes easy
here in the canyon silence
just the sighing wind
322 – 329, Dead Lands
How many days in
the millions of years it took
to make the land here?
This place was on fire
seasons burning on and on
cold in the morning
western towns cluttered
with junk we thought we needed
rusting along roads
New side of town lights
pizza storage rusting tin
desert winds blow dust
Random road messages
give hope to dreamers, gamblers
Long shot, all is true
I caught signal here
under high point juniper
to listen, hear truth
She said on the phone,
“I can’t really be myself,
in this life, my life.”
Two ravens watch cars
guarding town or the highway
or nothing at all.
330 – 337, Parking Lots
We tend toward order
the implicit pull to lines
numbers, doors, closed, *lock*.
Man, geometry
hard edges everywhere
except reflected
Things we hold onto
Stored for a possible life
we need to let go
pull back your shoulders
throw your fist in living air
you are really free
Find moments of breath
to see the shape of wind waves
carve dances in trees
The gods sleep gape-mouthed
Crawl in like a dream, settle
as a prayer-thought
They will wake with you
in the turning of the winds
the spinning of time
when widening luck
and rich configurations
clear the space ahead
338 – 346, Moves
American road
The river down below us
flows quiet like it does
The brand new of youth
gave way to just skeletons
gasoline for sale
It wouldn’t take long
for all this to be swallowed
in green light, small trees
Things lose their shine quick
traffic traffic all day long
forgetting with ease
The names of these places
They are all made up by men
real names are secrets
Wind will tell you soft
the syllables of longing
to simply move free
There are parts of us
that never die, quiet down
“Listen, don’t forget!”
The people walked here
no choice but to leave it all
for this? Really? This?!
The grass doesn’t care
what it is called by humans
Fine blades sing real names
347 -349, Singularity
So alive to me.
Branch and bough, wind-blown and still
growing steady, slow.
In mute expansion
breathing as leaves in light breeze
What else is there now?
When sirens go by
oftenloudlyovertime
the forest exists.
350 – 352, Existing
The end is nameless
as is the mute beginning
space in wind, sunlight
The heat from buildings
shimmers across busy streets
making atmosphere
it doesn’t take faith
To know the stars are still there
even if unseen
353 – 361, Momentum
none of the girls talk
about wanting a new life
they work, no questions
At night, eyes are cast
look down at your hands, count deeds
adding up the costs
clock in, clock out, work
life is a factory now
all you’ll ever know
fingers are calloused
no softness there, at the tip
knuckles swell at night
on television
there is a bright-colored life
people laughing loud
make worthless products
your life spent earning wages
fingers twisted, sore
Give away talents
so someone else can profit
that’s the way it is
you will never see
such a vivid universe
oceans blue, sky blue
your world is dull grey
under haze of smog and ash
sun a silver disk
362 – 365, Ending
We will forget them.
The ones who came before us,
those who we destroyed.
The names we gave them
never spoke to who they were.
Names don’t tell stories.
All beings lifted…
Lord, let us be un-named now.
All beings seen whole.
The only knowing
life, death, continuation
the forever earth.
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