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1 | --- | ||
2 | title: Litany for plants | ||
3 | genre: verse | ||
4 | |||
5 | project: | ||
6 | title: Autocento of the breakfast table | ||
7 | css: autocento | ||
8 | ... | ||
9 | |||
10 | I need a plant. I need a thing \ | ||
11 | to take care of. I need \ | ||
12 | a little green brownspotted \ | ||
13 | blackdirt growing \ | ||
14 | quietness. I need a sunlit \ | ||
15 | dawn knowing my name filtered \ | ||
16 | through a thin green window. \ | ||
17 | I need chlorophyll \ | ||
18 | working its magic on beams of \ | ||
19 | grassmade early morning dewdrop \ | ||
20 | sweetmaking green. I need \ | ||
21 | the dark earth sucking water \ | ||
22 | from a black crevice \ | ||
23 | its black magic churning \ | ||
24 | wormilled rockturned starblind \ | ||
25 | darkness and cold into \ | ||
26 | the opposite of dust. I need the heat \ | ||
27 | to blind me. I need the dumb making \ | ||
28 | to charge my coldened blood. I need \ | ||
29 | the dropturned leaves to turn again \ | ||
30 | their faces to the windblown sun. \ | ||
31 | I need millions of tiny years \ | ||
32 | summed up and burning out some unknown \ | ||
33 | new growth into the air. I need four \ | ||
34 | hundred feet of dark red gnarled wood \ | ||
35 | and needles glistening wetly on goldheaded \ | ||
36 | branches hoisting themselves \ | ||
37 | to the sky. I need ten strong men \ | ||
38 | to fail to bring you down. Old one \ | ||
39 | I need the peace that comes with knowing \ | ||
40 | something sacred holds still \ | ||
41 | in the world. I need your green tongues \ | ||
42 | of flame to lick at old wounds \ | ||
43 | stitching us together away from ourselves. \ | ||
44 | I need your brownbranching grasp \ | ||
45 | to keep me from drifting off \ | ||
46 | into unknowing terrible sleep. I need \ | ||
47 | to know the snake hanging \ | ||
48 | from your branches. I need to watch \ | ||
49 | the dropping of flesh massful \ | ||
50 | onto the ground from a height. I need \ | ||
51 | the gnawer at your root to strike \ | ||
52 | a vein to quicken old brown stone \ | ||
53 | to movement. I need jeweleyed venom \ | ||
54 | barking new greennesses into the bark. \ | ||
55 | I need a knocker of dark secrets hidden \ | ||
56 | in the dark bark hiding a smallstone \ | ||
57 | smoldering pearl in the knot. I need \ | ||
58 | that pearl held out in a hand like an offering. \ | ||
59 | I need the hand to be a plant's hand. | ||
60 | |||
61 | I need a plant. I need a growing \ | ||
62 | growler groaning toward heat and air. \ | ||
63 | I need a green thin stem surprisingly strong \ | ||
64 | holding up the weight of a plain \ | ||
65 | of fallow greennesses of creases and caresses \ | ||
66 | of tiny worldmaking hardworking grandeur. \ | ||
67 | I need a singer of life crying \ | ||
68 | forward into old roads covered over \ | ||
69 | by dead trees. I need the rasping of root \ | ||
70 | in dirt. I need the unfurling of fiddleheads \ | ||
71 | to sing forth a new symphony. I need \ | ||
72 | fruits swelling large for the harvest. \ | ||
73 | I need yellow light shining through white bark. \ | ||
74 | I need juicecrush flowing waterlike \ | ||
75 | through valleys percolating up \ | ||
76 | through the ground. I need springs bubbling sap \ | ||
77 | into cabins of wood fought for by labor. \ | ||
78 | I need snow on the ground with shoots \ | ||
79 | dotting the melting patches. I need two \ | ||
80 | leaves on a thin stalk shivering \ | ||
81 | in moonlight. I need robinsong warbling \ | ||
82 | over the heads of small seeds sprouting \ | ||
83 | to enliven their growth. I need rings \ | ||
84 | of woody material widening to push \ | ||
85 | the ground out of their way. I need \ | ||
86 | new greennesses pushing out from \ | ||
87 | the brown dark bark gnarled. I \ | ||
88 | need the robin to build its songfilled \ | ||
89 | nest in a branchcrotch. I need \ | ||
90 | the fecundity of fungi on the branches. \ | ||
91 | I need quiet of the sunlight shooting \ | ||
92 | through thousands of branched leaves \ | ||
93 | quivering. I need whisper at dawn. \ | ||
94 | I need burrows underground foxholes. \ | ||
95 | I need duff layers eaten through \ | ||
96 | by worms. I need brooks murmuring \ | ||
97 | through crooks of roots. I need small \ | ||
98 | fish swimming in their schools at \ | ||
99 | midnight. I need oldnesses giving way \ | ||
100 | to youngnesses giving way to oldnesses. \ | ||
101 | I need dapplegray yellowshot ashbark. \ | ||
102 | I need the crunch of dead leaves underfoot. \ | ||
103 | I need snowquiet deadbranch mourning. \ | ||
104 | I need those purple mountains majesty. \ | ||
105 | I need a walk between trees in the dark. \ | ||
106 | I need that moment when stopping to rest \ | ||
107 | it suddenly seems that all the weary \ | ||
108 | forestroads in all their meandering come \ | ||
109 | to rest their heads at my astonished \ | ||
110 | feet, none of them needing more than me. | ||