Thursday, March 14, 2013

our hunger.

the price of admission 
is a seedling in the moist 
all knowing land 
it's the wisdom below our barefeet 
protected by so many 
things; rubbers, plastics
anything to keep us from our 
intimate worth - 
the price of knowing the truth 
having the patience 
with heart and mind 
instead of the extreme dance
the marathon of words
the anxious running we do all day inside our skin
little parts, all our parts
running naked down every single meridian 
highways full of our knowing 
our wanting 
our intimacy
our hunger
soil beds to lay on 
to steep our soaked 
full of stress 
our tea bag selves 
to be strained 
pinched and seen 
in that last concentrated drop
(part of a prompt 'price of admission')
GATHER in my kitchen
FEED ON spring 
BE inspired
PINCH yourself

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