forty days and nights and on

forty days and nights and on

three times in this afternoon
the sky grumbled  complaining
  of  sunlight
brow thunderhead furrowed
pearlescent gray  thoughts
collecting in high rise billows
 determined to fall

and it does
it always   falls

I know the feeling of falling:
 gravity’s insistent wish
to bring me down
when flighty  I stubborn dream
   of flying

I outsmart   this declination
 enter into the castings of the wormword
 in tunnel  with as much pleasure
 as in flight
the earth   soil mud and stone
the naked bone of love
nerves fretted into a tangled web
 of root and rhizomes
leaves me speaking in water and earth
muddied now from forty days and
   nights of   rain
and still it falls
and even here I continue
    falling 
towrad the center
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