Opitennin

The morning that i stir within the narrow compost of my gravemiraculously ash space move around my head to open out my eyethe eyelids sticking down some time until they openingThat i cd lift my head and shoulders' shadowsfind arms & legs to shift the crisp & sound-less wind-like gravel for more company. push myself forward upsit there w/in the dark of worms & soft-stones for a whilemy nose allowing me to breathe the sticky myrrh of frankincense and bones. and somehow light here too . and space . more space .to push my fingers' hands up thru the coral up. ward up. warduntil i break into the peace and ancient sunlight of my birthmy one eye seeing allthe green the grass the distant tattoos on the trunks of treesand then the trees themselves . their leaves and silvery design of branchesw/the wind within them swaying welcomei cd not not believe it as i pushed up uprightsee the blackbirds hear the twits a gaulin wing above melike a kite and chilly mooring in the forgotten skyits open blue as if my heart wd pierce it!And so i push myself full up and climb myself out of the grave onto CowPasturewhen something turn my head around and there beyond the chain-link garden fencewas DreamChad's washing on the line as if she nvr stop her washing after i had goneAnd as i moved towards our homethe wind come up and blow the colours of the clothes towards me evermore >

Art · Art history · Head (geology · KISS (TNC · Computer Science · Earthquake and Disaster Impact Studies · Interdisciplinary Cultural and Social Studies · Political Developments and Conflicts · Geology · Paleontology