Early Mornings in the Land-of-Water

 

There’s a hooked staff while wading past the wooden fence: STOP!

There are leaves/ big loose 

teeth:                   like garlic

beneath the wave             which rouses the insomniac woman

 –they say that offerings they say                    that at weddings

(in) their green circle they chew. 

 

Oh! in the overthere:

a weevil/spittle of sea a lump of crabbed mud flats

as if of boiled cabbage as if of grey phlegm 

as if of 

limping / one-eyed / stumpless time...

And inland                         in the swinging doors   of the water lily’s fervor 

the fertile air/ fetid flapping       in a confused/semifused English

refusing to jumble itself at the root  of a myriad of high-held heads.

 

In the furrows/ of the beach                                   I lose my feet:

so that I am flat-footed    so that the footless centipedes

so that a touch of a foot                                           to a football             can 

make me fall

because of the red/broken devils

impious woman      be careful

on a bare ground  don’t pull the twine to settle 

don’t touch          the fishing line                             the bucking of the hook

don’t think about   tossing it       fodder/ steady-handed / corn

without a sea swelling parting

your path                 into 2

in 2022                     routes          with no exit.

 

I, lush woman, headed for the sea-walls

and came deaf    mute                unmoored:                   SHUT UP!

Meditating/meandering

I came back there because I had to                        find   my  current:

STREAM!!!

letting go and stirring/regrinding captivities:                ANCHOR?

through the unwary course        of the waterway:                     SAT NAM!

Fire breathing: STREAM!

pick-comb until the cranium receives lib(er)ation                

that goes beyond the navel: STREAM! STREAM!

freeing up knots/ norths/ ingrown nails: STREAM! STREAM! STREAM!

 

After that, I gifted myself molding

‒palm with palm /guitar             ear to ear‒

planets>> of deadening>> brightnesses>>

and even a viscount joined his ar(k/c)anas with me:  SPINNER!

to enliven the ring            of my sparse, diluted routes.

 

But ‒I do not lie‒ 

among the swarm of downpours‒hardships that come with water‒

there were other cheers:

tongue-and-grooved.

Chryselephantine

clergywomen/ candles/ chanting              houses

And above-all there were‒STAINED GLASS WINDOWS! RAINCOATS!‒

at the threshold were voices raised crest-high                         heading towards the hour of break-fasts:

         of the mouth...

           the overcast sky

       ceiling

:a pleasure    like the pan de gloria that opened    the false

and called the thurible of the sugar mill/ the smokestack 

of the train/ the high,  high tower of the lighthouse

‒like the pine at el Morro‒ 

where the star swings                       its censer                     in the middle of the desert.

 

It seemed that urged/unctioned, I    had only to cross over catapulted         

by my squirrel tail: HOPE! HOPE! HOPE!

split the terror/tremors from the nerve scales/ 

the wobble doll/ from the you-tell-me/ of the doubt-bird

without breaking my neck:                          MERRY CHRISTMAS!  

It goes without saying that what there was upon waking up... at the other side... of the kiss... of the mirror... of the water... of violets 

when I left buzzing.                           from a pollen cloud:      HUMMINGBIRD!

to peck at the flower.