APR 1, 2012 Landscrapes DEVOTIONS i am curious
Where are we off to?
Lurching, dodging, shuffling off to?
Rambling, meandering, orbiting on through?
72 inches beneath the grassroots?
They’ll plant us here, supposedly static
fat and bone, with all our resonant decadence
decayed into writhing myths
of mollusk pearl.
Nibble, then, will they
the comic agents of disintegration,
making humus, boiling our influenzas down
of rattling breath beckoning
us on to the commencement
of conclusive settling
in our own airy land:
gathering into its sauntering sweep,
of the nations
and urging us on
to still more startling forms
of rudely awakened