grassland futures, what dreams
subtend the sun’s persistent transmissions
buried arterial forms accelerate with our desires
draw heat and—
have you ever confronted a prairie?
how do you confront a prairie
consistently—
its expanse pours into me,
a cup of day now filled to its brim—
I felt my smallness
the magnitude of human interventions into this land—
how our thirst and will delved far beneath this loose windblown soil
to rewrite the nesting future forms
—what may emerge
((rise
(or slowly expose
grasses speak constantly into the sky—
quaking with the slightest tremors in the wind,
gathering murmuring terrestrial narration
persistent choral witness
((no throats but hairs
a western meadowlark, infrequently
the vague far field
(has your standpoint changed
horizonal insight—
the supine mountain line
whirs with the tinny punctuations of peaks
strata // detritus
data \\ debris
what do you know about lateral motion
attain an altruistic orientation
level yourself with gravities’ recollection
its bleached solace
this body without names
licked at by coursing clouds
how it generously scatters
a solar gaze
grasslands, no wilds
agitation then day—
gray umber the sky, and bleached
as bones
as the body in continual farewell
a reprisal
so turn and admit again
each gesture an admission of how eons elapse
indifferent of our
attention
in spring time no difference—
((utter vastness with your spine
the human integer speaks likewise—periodically,
with antecedents
life anywhere and across such plains is— move
in blonde light
in rushes
in no breeze
in its churn
announce a human empathy
((all we want is to address the day
mother distance // father light
are we now unified here
in our efforts
to speak with,
to not comprehend
to build is to mount intentions
I gather the daylight
its grassvoice in paper knots and folds
can you hold true to
a seemingly infinite span
civilizational,
uttered into the land
with remnants
do all beginnings climb upwards
individually
gathered together in a swarm
transforming even the sky’s reach
into a blank arrow
a cry
“tenderly will I use you curling grass”
while grieving—a return
a way to call a name—
our names back into us
the farthest field became most familiar
a time of day ((vibrating
to perceive all in one even span
red winged blackbirds melodically summon the sky
a gleam—
an exposed winter, bleached
“”””””
((root // bone))
myriad eras of witness housed in each
stuttering hair
when I peered as closely as I could
aided by well-designed instruments
a cacophony of
saturated complex figures
swarmed into view
((the present chorus (may perform quietly
all of summer may appear
instantly
(((
I asked for nothing
my small mouth closed
I saw the fullness of one part
of your seasonal story
may I kneel
may I furtively reach out
countless languages and songs—
some ours,
and with millennia of effort—
I do not believe we can ever appease this longing
oh to lay my exhausted body
into that pale breathing pelt
buried in every quiet dawn anew
apologetically and unapologetically
debris of
musket shot
abandoned snack bags
tin cans and aluminum cans
the stray hairs from fleeing children
matches: unlit, lit, failed
the burnt ends of all
soiled blankets
string
bits and shreds of tobacco
seed husks
barked at by prairie dogs
alert and lounging in the cold springtime sun
sleek backs and rounded legs
erratically yet incessant
“sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow”
may this golden page persist, make material
capturing the endless solar transcription
our brightest intelligence
speaks speed | consumption | fury
sprints from calamity harkens expansion
breathing chasms into all
in the black mote, the slenderest pollen and grain
the future’s vertical harmonies will rise
for grass we say “blade” yet what if it were recast
revised as “song”
the lie is we are alone, held separate
indifference is the faulty illusion
a radiant firmament conjured into the pale call of these
thin trembling fronds
and here, I offer my prayer
may the sands that lay untouched deep within us
filtering and refining our encounters with all
may these sands return us into
the hands of our primary mother
held against the backs of our humiliated heads
soothing the stark spires of our narrow spines
warm maternal pelvis, earthy and complete
into which we curl again
secretive to ourselves
but recognizable to any and all
here in the eon’s accretions loosened then collected
a myriad sequence of overheard phrases and words
may we start otherwise, anew
in the earth’s forgiving kiln
arise with gleaming eyes eager to seek
our farthest familiar relations in the vast fields of this knowing
and upon first sight cry ringing glowing circlets of welcome
how our arms have ached to cradle you
my lost gray eyed daughter
my solemn shining son
my child mine
our future our radiance
our figure our all
silentbroadcast 