plow into the sea,
take their motors and
plow into the sea?
How many farms sink
up from the table,
push their chairs back and
sink up from the table?
How many beds
whisk out through the wall,
cover rumpling stiffs and
whisk out through the wall?
How many roots
insist on themselves,
dreams in their life-press
insist on themselves?
How many of us
will climb from below,
up from the sinking,
climb up from below,
float out of the house
rise up from the farm
grown all from seeding,
climb up from below.
Posted by nancy at December 22, 2009 09:17 AM