03-01-2014, 02:18 PM
(02-21-2014, 12:50 PM)alatos Wrote: Title says it all. I do not claim to know exactly what what I wrote here 'means.' I just wrote without self-criticism, edited, and came up with this strange piece of whatever.
First, love this earth you’ve sprung from. 1st person would be more direct as noted by others
Look at the way it writhes across the ground, under all ten of your toes and
all ten of your fingers.
Eat it. Eat it raw.
Shove your face into the ground and chew, and breathe heavily, smelling the
dampness, and feel the grit clumping under your
tongue and filling between your teeth.
Cover your naked self with the uncut grasses and clovers out
in that field.
Suck the dew off the tips of each blade. You are an infant, nursing.
Crawl. Don’t use words: there are none soon enough, subtle
enough, bubbling with delight enough. This stanza is the heart of the poem. The language takes me right to where you want me to go. It is very clear and convincing.
The sound of the openness around you is your birthright of the eons.
An endless parade of experience.
An endless parade of leaves falling forever.
And endless parade of you, exploding unstoppably into
the universe, surrounded by everything so terribly beautiful. This stanza is a little vague. I am not really sure of what you are saying, although I like how your saying it.