When You Walk on Sky There’s No Where to Grow

Aberration Among,

Those trees where wise men hung,

By their toes for days.

Unerringly dedicant

To the illusive processes

Of finding,

Eternity.

Their faces redden

With ink pooling

In their crown.

Why can’t they see

Their absurdity?

They hymn their way 

Closer to a god only

To find a metaphor

instead. They miss 

The point. I think

Tomorrow morning

I’ll take the pair 

Of child safe scissors

I keep in my desk drawer,

Snip their divine cords

And let them 

Fall.

Down here.

In the loam and worming

Roots. The pebbles,

The pebbles.

When the world is upside 

Down sky looks

Like ground.

But Hark!

And prostrate yourself

To the squelching mud

And wriggling bugs.

 

When you look down 

And see sky, there’s no

Where to go but down.

True eternity lies in the dirt

Looking up.