i. A strong medicine crawls within this slow sandy stream. How it settles upon us, sometimes – complacent as a digesting diamondback, then petulant and contrarian as an overtired toddler, fists balled up against the scurry of fall. How is this indolent stream not sucked into service by the mercenary soul of October to December? With its rustle and tug of lists, its countless details, each a suitor flirting for our attention. More fool’s gold for duty. My Anais Nin flings her confetti of milk weed feathers, of mica flecks onto a hot breeze, she is a sister entropy to cicada song, the sugar of river seduction. My reptile brain hungry for a flash of primal spark, hangs on each note. ii. Was a time we lead with a different attitude, lighter and deft, how we jibbed and jived – grass, feather and fur, how we were savage and bloody consumed, blooming green and giving. How invisible the blades that flayed us from skin and essence
Kinetic Poetry - Subject to change without warning.