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<title>Litany for a plant | Autocento of the breakfast table</title>
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<h1 class="title">Litany for a plant</h1>
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<p>I need a plant. I need a thing<br />to take care of. I need<br />a little green brownspotted<br /><a href="building.html">blackdirt</a> growing<br />quietness. I need a sunlit<br />dawn knowing my name filtered<br />through a <a href="window.html">thin green window</a>.<br />I need chlorophyll<br />working its <a href="cereal.html">magic</a> on beams of<br />grassmade early morning dewdrop<br />sweetmaking green. I need<br />the dark earth sucking water<br />from a black crevice<br />its black magic churning<br />wormilled rockturned starblind<br />darkness and cold into<br /><a href="https://samofthetenthousandthings.wordpress.com/2012/09/08/charles-wright-reads-james-wright-the-journey-audio-poem/">the opposite of dust</a>. I need the heat<br />to blind me. I need the dumb making<br />to charge my coldened blood. I need<br />the dropturned leaves to turn again<br />their <a href="no-nothing.html">faces to the windblown sun</a>.<br />I need millions of tiny years<br />summed up and burning out some unknown<br />new growth into the air. I need four<br />hundred feet of dark red gnarled wood<br />and needles glistening wetly on goldheaded<br />branches hoisting themselves<br />to the sky. I need ten strong men<br />to fail to bring you down. Old one<br />I need the peace that comes with knowing<br />something sacred holds still<br />in the world. I need your green tongues<br /><a href="fire.html">of flame to lick at old wounds</a><br />stitching us together away from ourselves.<br />I need your brownbranching grasp<br />to keep me from drifting off<br />into <a href="in-bed.html">unknowing terrible sleep</a>. I need<br /><a href="ouroboros_memory.html">to know the snake</a> hanging<br />from your branches. I need to watch<br />the dropping of flesh massful<br />onto the ground from a height. I need<br />the gnawer at your root to strike<br />a vein to quicken old brown stone<br />to movement. I need jeweleyed venom<br />barking new greennesses into the bark.<br />I need a knocker of dark secrets hidden<br />in the dark bark hiding a smallstone<br />smoldering pearl in the knot. I need<br />that <a href="roughgloves.html">pearl held out in a hand</a> like an offering.<br />I need the hand to be a plant’s hand.</p>
<p>I need a plant. I need a growing<br />growler <a href="feedingtheraven.html">groaning</a> toward heat and air.<br />I need a green thin stem surprisingly strong<br />holding up the weight of a plain<br />of fallow <a href="the-sea_the-beach.html">greennesses of creases and caresses</a><br />of tiny worldmaking hardworking grandeur.<br />I need a singer of life crying<br />forward into old roads covered over<br />by dead trees. I need the rasping of root<br />in dirt. I need the unfurling of fiddleheads<br />to sing forth a new symphony. I need<br />fruits swelling large for the harvest.<br />I need yellow light shining through white bark.<br />I need juicecrush flowing waterlike<br />through valleys percolating up<br />through the ground. I need springs bubbling sap<br />into cabins of wood fought for by labor.<br />I need snow on the ground with shoots<br />dotting the melting patches. I need two<br />leaves on a thin stalk shivering<br />in <a href="finding-the-lion.html">moonlight</a>. I need robinsong warbling<br />over the heads of small seeds sprouting<br />to enliven their growth. I need rings<br />of woody material widening to push<br />the ground out of their way. I need<br />new greennesses pushing out from<br />the brown dark bark gnarled. I<br />need the robin to build its songfilled<br />nest in a <a href="epigraph.html">branchcrotch</a>. I need<br />the fecundity of fungi on the branches.<br />I need quiet of the sunlight shooting<br />through thousands of branched leaves<br />quivering. <a href="apollo11.html">I need whisper at dawn.</a><br />I need burrows underground foxholes.<br />I need duff layers eaten through<br />by worms. I need brooks murmuring<br />through crooks of roots. I need small<br /><a href="proverbs.html">fish swimming</a> in their schools at<br />midnight. I need oldnesses giving way<br /><a href="about-the-author.html">to youngnesses giving way to oldnesses</a>.<br />I need dapplegray yellowshot ashbark.<br />I need the crunch of dead leaves underfoot.<br />I need <a href="100-lines.html">snowquiet deadbranch</a> mourning.<br />I need those <a href="http://www.wrensworld.com/purpmount.htm">purple mountains majesty</a>.<br />I need a walk between trees in the dark.<br />I need that moment when stopping to rest<br />it suddenly seems that all the weary<br /><a href="http://www.bartleby.com/119/1.html">forestroads</a> in all their meandering come<br /><a href="riptide_memory.html">to rest their heads</a> at my astonished<br />feet, none of them needing more than me.</p>
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