This poem was written in April 2006. It is the most cathartic piece I've ever written; the three-part process stretching across several days. The imagery was more real to me than what actually inspired it - germinating a new bodily sense. My new taste buds thirsted for salt water and leaves. And, of course, I discovered that eating the world is easy.
1.
i ate the earth in one bite.
its oceans and plains felt
the wet of my tongue.
dreadfully rural.
horn seeps,
world waits in dark suspension,
and starlight flicks white dashes beneath
the sound.
echo...
sound.
grass coats my throat still
making me want to die again.
2.
i ate the earth in one bite.
its oceans and plains felt
the wet of my tongue.
wonderfully domestic.
appliances hum,
dirt floats in alluring anticipation,
and sound is an afterthought behind
the wind.
familiar wind.
clouds are in my pocket still
making me want to die again.
3.
i ate the earth in one bite.
its oceans and plains felt
the wet of my tongue.
silently haunting.
fog bleeds,
water laps in pooled premonition,
and darkness rifles my misery before
its prowl.
midnight prowl.
bedrock cuts my feet still,
making me want to die again.
overload
2 years ago
2 comments:
I like this alot, Ben. I haven't read your blog before. I didn't really know it was there. I didn't know it was so extensive. It reminds me of Walt Whitman. I think it would sum up Leaves of Grass if tweaked a little. I hope you haven't stopped gathering 'eat the world' moments and that you haven't stopped dying.
Mark, thanks man. That really means a lot.
To be honest, as I read this poem again just now, I realized that it really has been a while since I felt that way. It's been too long since the last time creation itself has moved me emotionally. I think that is my fault, and not creation's.
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