I cradle this collapse in my arms,
Arms strengthened by years of chest presses
Fortified by the shouldering of incubatory compressions
Years spent in a thin cocoon, never quite in or out of it
As I caress the once-but-no-longer-serving abstractions and fantasy-fueled attachments,
I simultaneously and quite tenderly loosen and untie them
And then next
I Allow them.
First a reprieve and then a release
I further kindle the undoing with a bit of ash and tinder
A post-heat-wave cool 67 degree breeze
With the dirt that’s happily secured inside my wide nail beds,
I kiss it with lips which touched lifetimes of apocalyptic-utopian air
The kiss turns cough, conjuring up preverbal grief
The grief is what’s most nitrifying here
Next, the most precious element for a full sun
The flooding, a wellspring-level watering
For flowers, and not just cacti
But for mesopotamian-ancient pickling-emergent apple blossoms
To complete the concoction fertilizing the soul’s sacred orchard,
A too-long-minimized going-back-through, a recycling back to bypassed self-indulgence
And now, a post defragmentation neural reprogramming
Psycho-celestial acupuncture
Threads and tentacles return to roots and shoots
Control collapses to spontaneous paths of authenticity, guided by soul-led agency