year X day 2 11.15.09

how long the days
 as lived  how short
the time it takes
for the trees to bare
for plume crowned reeds and rushes 
  to tranform from green  to brown
the gaping lips of milkweed
having birthed their fluff borne seeds ___

I write in the dark cave at the heart of my lair
about the day  eye minded
an interior vision prompted and propped
by memory
the outside made in-
and then released

just as the milkweed
 takes in- 
  the fire’s sun
  the earth’s nutrients
  the water’s sustinence
  the air’s respire
transforms these into umbrelled floral crowns
each tiny blossom in turn
becoming each brown seed  to be released
air borne outside  in-
 and out   ranging wide
 seeking to take root

seeds which have taken root
in these words
scattered now into the atmosphere
to ignie
to be mined
to be inhaled
to quench the parched and dessicate

three hours ino the deep of night
setting out to word weave the faded threads
of a tapestried pouch
from which pixie dust will be strewn

and I have explored
Dionysus who led me to
satyrs   and Priapus
  (who led me to Asia Minor)
and a host of ithyphallics
Asia Minor 
   and the wondrous distraction
  of Leonardo’s  design for a bridge across the Golden Horn
and on to the vagarious  slime molds

and then the quantum leap
that brought me to milkweed
and the out’s and in’s
of everything

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