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Cinder and the Hills

Updated: Jan 12



Today I lay my back

against the broad green oceanic hills

and I think

where are the stripes of fire

that should lie

illuminate between us?


I am heavy with

need and want

to be dancing in the hills

with wild companions,

not,

for this body only

but for the surging green

melee of the world.


I want my desire

to create not a conglomerate

that feeds only itself

but a network

that recreates the wild soul.

Today I lay my back

on the broad bank of oceanic fire

milled by years of white change,

and I think

where are the hands in my hands

to recreate

the old and sluggish burden

of infinity

where is the drawing down

not of

a queen

or a king

that can't survive

his own institution

where is the drawing down

of the moment

between you and I and they

that reshells plenitude?


They say

Cinderella

lost her slipper

because she was late

and hurrying home.


Did it ever occur to anyone

that she was done

with being shod

done with paying

lip service to a ball

that was nowhere near human

when none of them could see

the scales and feathers

on her ribs and hair?


I bet

she wanted to be free

and in that moment

when she left the ballroom

kicked off that golden shoe

just one

so that she could feel

the chalky ground

beneath her feet.

When they found

her by it

what was that?

Capitulation? Accident or love?

I will remember the moment

where she goes barefoot

under the livid lizard stars.

I will re-member,

a time in the soft

forbidden space after

the clock had struck

where,

without a shoe,

she walked the chalky road, laid her broad back

upon the dark, round, oceanic hills

and felt relieved

to be anywhere but there.


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