Mark

Anchored Above the Line

                                            
2014

Crows in the aspens
grove perfumed with blossoms and bird song
and the dead not dead
and the roses growing up their thorns
Moss holding up tiny forests unfolding
The big meadow’s a clock laid face to the sky
clouds pollen insects
tell the story
of shadows and
the great pulley that tugs us
inexorably, Home.
All that I am — birds, blossoms, silk air
bee in the flower, All of Me
crow call, woodpecker glide, flash and boil of sky
deep purple blooms laddering the patient green
fat bumblebee, verdant hillside, shimmy shiver quiver
as shade shakes out last night's starlight
from every fold and catchment
As human patterns fall away
who will be left standing here in the soft June forest?

Anchor me above the line.
Imagine peace here and now
open to leaf tambourines
faraway ovals of songbirds
and grasses humming out the bottoms of false stories
Open to this-ness, now-time
no place called future
just the hazy balm of June
True, like this light limning that cloud
Real, like all there is just rolling through
reel like pulling it in, another perfect day
this breathless witness caught, strobing through the world
moment, moment, moment
i just need to add my breath
and forget all the bumps this mind clings to
Fuck all that texture! 
I want the smooth tube of All.

Out of the garden soil, seeds
and out of the wood chip mulch, mushrooms
and out of the rubble, new sprouted baby trees
the life force smiling
season of generosity and yessing
Golden and silver, the river’s melted metals, snow
and minerals unclenching like i am
to the roar and glide, ever downward and always away
of the river and time

My mother is losing her mind
shuddering down my days
my un-shuttered gaze
razing the structures i try to put in place
subtracted like the institutions and the brief solutions
like the river of every mineral particle of surety
taken down
patterns click into place, then drown
so i see that i am in fine company
subsumed by the next liquid thing
as sprouting rubble gives way to living forest

Willows are flood-bitten 20 feet up
still shove green forgiveness out thru all their bark fingers
feeding the hungry mouth of June
Pull float grieve gain, always more coming
whether or not the bridges hold on
or the individual trees survive
the life force swirls up from a constant source
the willows sprout at baseline chaos
What if i could see what grows in me
rushing to the scene of the tragedy
to lift her green shining willingness up to the sun
say Yes

Don't fall below the line —
don't sink —
Anchor me above the line!
i will change my name to Bob
i will tread, back-kick, practice supreme buoyancy
like trees who face the flood
peace is what i want
A high calm island in the floodplain
a cairn of heart rocks to love this old body
this old mother, this old pattern
collapsing in beauty
To love the dust rising
and what settles
to love what lifts and leaves
to love
even and especially, the Pain leaving trails in the air
Anchor me above the line
and let love govern.

Life can splinter you if you let it
just the fact of plutonium
just the sound of a ringing phone
every victory temporary, each defeat forever
so you gotta Laugh
Cackle. Sob. Bob. Break down. Break through
die to the old, arrive at the new
wait, breathing and anchor me up here above that line

Wind shreds the mackerel sky
trees dance to June's big band
the great pulley tugs
but i pull against my anchor and it holds
I am the pen and her lover
her green sprout emerging over and over
tugging back against time to ring the bell
to let life know I’m still here
and add my green cheer to the red spiral
to submit, to discover a fitter fit
to feel everything and stay connected
a piece of peace like an ember glowing
growing in the cage of my chest
glowing to tell me i am the beloved of my story
I am the shift move saving me.

For Julie Collwell

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