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 

bodies 

our tea bag selves 

dying

to be strained 

pinched and seen 

in that last concentrated drop

(part of a prompt 'price of admission')

MIRACLE 

ONE WEEK 

FROM TODAY

GATHER in my kitchen

FEED ON spring 

BE inspired

PINCH yourself

MORE here

XXXX