Unburial, by Marc Alan Di Martino
I learned your language to unbury you ...
I learned your language to unbury you ...
Is every bird a kiss incarnate? Its color and character contained?
In my phone in my food in my milk / container, in my thoughts, the mouse, the transparent / window
In these incantatory movements, / everything is on the verge of kindling
How is it that spring comes / early to January, green film / feathering the still-wet rocks
November and the tiny bones / Call for directions.
During my Kahala weekends, I was the man of the house and felt a duty to protect my mother and Jen.
"There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly." R. Buckminster FullerMany years ago, I was fortunate to hear Mr. Fuller speak and was struck by his magical, intertwining and brilliant embrace of mechanics and nature. So too, Georgia O'Keefe struck a chord of nature interpretation with me over [...]
"You go back to the roots and then what comes out of that experience is shocking, it’s beautiful. And it rarely disappoints me if I approach things like that."
They speak of god along with cloud-esteem, sheep watching, plenty of softness.