I emerged and began reprovisioning the machinery I had construted over decades of exile.
The chasms filled with light. The terrible sounds of nerve terror dimmed to silence.
I heard reverberations of distant planets and the chatter of mathematics.
I felt the vertigo of borderless love. The endless falling. I grew roots into the soil
and bowed my forehead to the mud; the decay that births life. A tree grew from my spine
and stretched its tendrils through loved ones, strangers, cyber-biotic intersections,
and multispecies agreements. I breathed myself into a collaborative poetic
pulsing through geographies, networks, temporalities, dreams, and desires.
We is the I we find when our droplet returns to the ocean. I remember when
I apprenticed with life beyond the borders of my speciation. How I imprinted
on rhizome, spore, flock, and valley. Entangled my love hunger in the hooks
and claws of life need. I took notes in the form of embodied practice
and translated the impressions these experience left on me into musical scores
I performed with string quartets:
When I emerged I envisioned new orientations to ideating, collaborating, healing,
building and being. I desired to build a productive poetic that would extend
beyond expressing. A poetic that could organize, mobilize, and shape the trajectories of
interdependent webs of becomings. My poems exist as patterns of knowing that fire
in my neural connectome. I call them geoflora, and I tend
them as my principal labor. They are the story of the love I dared to feel
and the network of care I dared to cultivate.
I wet ash spared from my valley into ink
and scrawl the names of godessess on my skin
to make myself known to myself
I am not edifice
but divine orifice
a channel forged by centuries of tears
now carved by light
I sing to the fecund overflow
and my cells lose their meaning
and I am lost
and it is forever night and day at once
and I spill into you
oh adjascent others
through hooks of longing lust pulse tether
fill and drain
reform and rupture
a rapture of life death
becomes our saltana
and we are drunk on our own music