Sunday, January 15, 2017

Remembering Creation

Remembering Creation

Nothing.
So empty that
motion rushing lines converging, diverging
each singing to each other in hoarse metallic voices
rushing past causing motion.
Wind that would whip through my hair
if there were hair
or air
but singing metallic lines don't need air.
breathing needs air.

So,
as in a fireworks fire cracker, from the center in parabolic sea urchin shaped explosion
come folding out like fast motion petals
clouds, particles of gas.
Streaming , each not in lines but
in a bubbling frenzy boiling in all directions bouncing against winds and gravity
Newly forming.
Condensing.

Hard fall against a rock planet.
Splash down against a shallow puddle
on dark rock cut edges and smooth pools.
Body which can now feel.
Feel the hardness of the rock.
Cold and warm flash through in waves of torrents of rain
padding the body through no clothes
all wetness but
skin against rain droplets
skin against the delicate clinging line of a few inches deep water pool.

With sound of rain beating tiny insect landings on rock and in water.
The invention of death by drowning.
The invention of fright from death.
Getting up from the water
cold air rushes through wet skin.
Awareness of light expanding empty dark eyeballs
life in the distance
large deeply colored dinosaur with leather and beads for skin
Stomping
from behind
now inventing directions
coming at me.
Means food means run means fright means hard breathing
and hard padding of feet quickly placed against ground
pounding it into soil
which sprouts palm trees and fern fronds
to rasp against thighs and shoulders
and push them away.
Push into them into darkness mass of plants filling space.
tangle of vines and growing stems
into textures call vision into existence
that eat vision 'till it can't escape
Neither can a new sense, smell
called into existence, absorbed by insect odors        |
and moist ground and rotting flesh of things eaten and half eaten and not eaten and yet living but also dying
Every thing that is soft here is living and dying.
But living with sound of insect rasping snake sliding dropping of seeds by birds up and screeching and flapping sounds of flying
and animal grabbing
claws digging into soft parts
to eat and new sense of taste of what smells
hard taste to tongue
which is eaten
Taste which is craved for which is eaten.
Taste which is good which is eaten again.

Ahead in dense tangle 
making order
cutting from tangle a womb
made of light from fire.
Around it sitting
around fire in the middle
which is seen bright fingers 
spreading coldness and thinness of night
spitting sparks, young worlds of day up into the night of high trees
Sound which sparks are born from popping and snapping of wood
which are fires born from.
heat pushing against body facing fire.
Lack of heat pulling out of body away from fire towards cold dark night.

No more stories to talk around the fire because day then night is tiring so sleep
muscles coming apart
tension spreading on firm flow of ground under tent.
Inside tent with air and breath and clothes and heat
inside sleeping bag with breath and heat
protection from outside cooling

into morning now cold
Do not leave inside of breath bag heat of sleep from dreams
but discipline and urging of morning
out of bag diving out into cold damp morning.
Sounds of others with fire and water and pots and "good mornings"
Stiffness seeping back from firm cold ground into stiff cold bones
unzip tent bird-sounds tree-whispers cold and dew singing on grass rush in
contaminate and mix and drown air of breath and warmth and sleep.
Step out creating movement out of cold clammy bones into dew and rocks and twigs snapping and grass
to water splashing
shock and shiver of water slapping
cold and shivering of awakening
washing away firmness of sleep ground dryness in crevices of face
taste of soap which is morning not yet good to eat.

to make food a field which can be plowed
find oxen, catch oxen
hands on firm muscle and rough skin of oxen muscle movement under skin.
Latch up to tools which 
will dig into earth
turn it up to air
air out the earth
gentle crisp musth of growing molds insects roots in soil rising
softness compacting under feet sand through toes
pattern and pain of pebbles embedded in soil much softer.
Rows of turning soil
rows after rows keeping track of rows and tiredness
of time of waiting working movement fun monotony.
Heat and bath of warmth of sun beating down on body
wet dripping from hair to combat sun skin.

Now cool rows of corn crops can hide a person from the sun 
in rows
pattern in rows straight
or rows broken in the other direction
rows of corn stems from soil to air above the head
rasping of dry corn leaves against arms
ground firm air robust with summer daytime in nostrils
opening sight out the other end of the corn crop ocean.

City.
corn rows into rows of God size
monoliths in straight rows and
rows of rows in corner made directions
rows of blocks laid by God
along streets along side walks.

Crowd
people milling 
Din of people milling but hearing no one.
Traffic sounds also and 
cars stopping and going by and trucks with huge bellies bleating, breaking
Lights on buildings far and higher lights on cars lights on signs lights on planes
Energy of motion of living massiveness of oppressive smell and sound
Hunger
into any building of different types of food
city food of hotdogs and soda and gyros  and pretzels and pizza
the dry bottom and slick molten oily cheese on top
burning against skin stuck hot oily cheese.

All this I remember, and am satisfied

28July84
Stonybrook, NY