Soil is the given,
plotted sifted trodden fixed,
the stuff contested and bequeathed
among particulars of that We,
corporeal, collected into body
as grit binds, holus polus, into stone:
by lateral gravity and invertebrate spit.
its imagined mastery,
but journey-learn no need for soil,
nor the fickle savor of its issue
in strands of eugenic green.
Light! Banner unseizable, no stake in earth.
Air, haloed carousel, animation in repose.
Water, rhythm made visible, the homomorphic verb.
trinity of unction's extremes,
conjoined in the glitter-fizz, harbor-hailing spray
of beads sprung element-interchangeable from a single string
to land and scatter indiscriminate, intact,
to every wind-whipped strand, alerting shaft-antennae
to extend, nerves to stand erect, let
beads re-settle, re-necklace, re-wet, re-together as particles
me/we burst merge effervesce.
Release to soil my borrowed rib,
the body's stays, my prop and cross,
its clavicle and mannered wrist,
flayed then rounded for a generation,
for another, tunneled sheer,
by the motoring infintessima of frictive will,
rejoin me, God, repentant of unruly half,
to unfragmented wind insoluble wet irreducible beam,
to gum the mucal of-a-piece
strung miniscule and indiscrete
on a lifetime's length of volunteered
poet, linguist and arts lawyer, Maureen Holm is a principal
in the international consortium, p h i l o p h o n e m a
(producers of Lyric Recovery Festival at Carnegie Hall),
and Senior Essayist and Articles Editor for Big City Lit
(www.nycBigCityLit.com). Recent publications include Paris/Atlantic