heart of throws_
throw of hearts_
my hand_
cervical spine_
cervix_
mine.
a mother
un/becoming;
bleed
sloughing cells of un/made minds.
it doesn’t make me sad today
that i have no child
that i never had any;
i am grateful
as time alone is so precious.
i have come to my own blood
by making space
cells: the child: sea
blood: the mother: land
bones: the father: stars
stars are where the lands rise. land is where the seas reside
with the tide of time which flows in space as gravity.
different waves and rhythm form liquid light.
space changes and presents as me;
flow, changing.
like dark matter, think dark brine.
bones make blood
into beings
sea made into child
blood is heavy
metallic licking
iron and salt
mineral city
bone quartz zinc.
the words we say make me feel different ways
language is violent. it erases everything. all that is unnamable. all the important things.
english, specifically, opresses with the tongue and thought patterns. trains the brain in associations that perform a certain programming underneath. language reinforces the power of those who define the words we speak.
i want to learn a language that perpetuates the power of kindness and ethical intergrity.
is it all just circles? orbiting? the cycle of things. does the sound of time disappear (change) like fluid circling a drain. these vast circles of things. waves emitted. rumbled vibrations in multidimensional rings. we are protected by the circumstance of things. we are part of the wringing. we are the ring. our individual sound travels out in waves and moves in eye skin and ear shot to effect other’s ring. their wave. we are so many pebbles at the moment of drop, at the moment of impact, at the moment of settling. we are the air and liquid and each moment in between. the rock and the liquid. the dropping. rise, float. how lucky are we? to be a part of the thing. not apart from the thing.
it smiles as me.
from deep echoes the heart chambers bow slightly and move back a centimeter or two as the lungs do too. my lungs. the only lungs that i know that travel the sea in my blood. my blood moves my lungs with its rolling, briney tide. venal and arterial blood in the heart estuary.
flow is different than float.
written after class w k.j. holmes 12jan2021- her classes are always full of movement, ideas, research, resources, books and art and science to dig into. thank you, k.j.:)
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image @ nicole garlando
Cole G 