tonight i will set
up camp at the
base of your spine
tomorrow i will mount
everest your shoulder blades
and call you mine.
“Life on other planets may rely on plate tectonics.”
Life on THIS planet relies on plate tectonics.
And plate tectonics relies on life.
Continents floating on an unfathomable sea
Air and water alchemed with rock
by living matter.
It is all living matter.
We are all living matter.
Pushing up mountains
Subducting into Tartarean trenches
The lichen weathers
The moss blankets
A mile of organic sea sediment
wets the wheel of creation.
The ground we stand on.
Cusp of a day, a weather, a season,
but we all know Houston oscillates.
That on-off flood, that seizure sky
that expectation of the hedgehog
and the fox. What does the clock say?
Aimless and shameless without galoshes
along the inner loop. I wish I knew infinity
like James Turrell, but it’s enough in this skyspace.
I think we died at the station, but I’m here again
with the lust of a night, a sweater, a prison.
Our train splashes through the ceiling forever,
all watery-cubed, all pleasantly lethal
almost deafening with momentum
and impulse. What does the clock say?
Wander and ponder under the thundering
sprint to Hanszen. I wish I knew umbrellas
like I knew the rain, but it’s warm in this escape.
I think we lied at the station, but I’m here again
with the trust of a word, a letter, a reason
but we all know I oscillate.