I’m either crawling toward something or away from something. Rarely both.
There Are A Thousand Ways, by PHILIP ALPHONSE RIZZO, published in Spillway number 6, 1997
I long for the earth Honor dirt in fingernails soil that blows into corners Thank the dust clarioned from the stars impacts the tundra that feed caribou Bless ancestral ashes that make roses bloom Praise Sahara dunes the droppings of camels and horses Give reverence to warm grays ochres siennas the burnt umber that roots the pine in Sedona I love the black humus that sticks to Italian names hugs celery around Rome and Utica Kneel and kiss bricks fired to propagate courtyards Massage glazing pots hungering for marigolds Prostrate myself before loam holy blend that substrates corn and wheat and soy beans in Iowa and Nebraska gives artichokes to salads grapes to wind in California Wash not my hands too well after digging in the garden Am not harsh with what we were or shall become
Received a wonderful gift from a friend, a 1956 OPTIMA Elite 3 typewriter in very good condition. My new companion for the next week or so.