THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM
Ground me. Plunge me plum-root,
so burrowed in you
I cannot feel dislocated. I carry
the carnelian seeds in me, plucked,
puff-play on breeze, dandelion
universe skimming the yellow meadow.
I carry the brash seeds into cosmos-crater,
thousands of miles past moons.
What is darkness, or light, or relativity,
or water, or gasping air-element
to tiny packets in wait,
wafting on your breath? Of what significance
is chaos or time? What is fear
except when you turn it,
spidery loam rich-ready to receive
what has arrived, little glow hole of home
bursting outward, our
secret sapphire life transplanting new ground.