the ragged the torn and the cut
in the realm of the kingdom of the once was the orange peel and the garlic skin the avocado and lint from the dryer the rotten pear
here it was hours before in my refrigerator whole and pink if not green or orange and now transformed into base dirt all i don't need and supplied with the supple and essential engines of change to borne again the frames and fruits of my yard my grass and my bushes
like grains of sand upon the shore and thoroughly washed and chaste now become nothing again
in my home my abode my heaven my green grass and bushes forewith and doth here become what it once was and is again
the cycle of my becoming and riding forth unto the hither where the heather and the meadow meet unto the meeting of the storm and the cloud there go i and there i be
the lush garbage of my rendering squeezed into orange juice or labeled with such as becomes fruit i herewith die with you and proclaim it is all glory the dying and the midmorning and the molding and living it is such in my living room
in the compost bin of my backyard i see leaves not of grass but of leaves and i sense scents that don't make no sense but here it is it's a part of the world
the universe is but a rolypoly and could not be more than my earth maker my creator my renumerator my all there the friends of the rolypoly are and the hangouts the bars and the clubs of the rolypolys are and all that sustains them aye
and what forswooth is to be made of it besides the gross anatomy we all know of the earth of our mother and the breast of blooming fecundity therein lies the question making love with the answer beneath the pecan
pecans compose or die in the dirt a new tree which grows by the fence it shall called kio tree for upon his grave it arose my pet dog of past and now it becomes forth with anew form and a face akin to god
therein lies my poem and my poetry it finds pleasant repose without cliche and detritus and distraction it finds undefiled and alone it's home it's heaven it's pleasant and eternal dispose
i suppose and what's more the rain gently falling from heaven begots and bequeaths unto this 17th century form and more a new meaning and therefore becomes 21st century again recycles the poem of old shakespeare's bones his bonds loosen his tongue grows bold and the mead forms again the blue line of the distant horizon
i find it uprising
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