they are small streams nowthat cut these deep valleys –rock slip moist mosswhere light can hardly touchbut here shaftbeam drift lightthrough tall trees and airhung with water dropletsand spore,touching bracket or fern leafor foot. small streams nowthat roar with the raintumbling debris,hanging upriver grassin the trees with the floodline. small streams thatspeak gentle overrock shelvesstill…
footbound and silenced by your willful disregard of my existence i see your dis-ease. in your world cleansed of any voice but your own your body knows my speaking feels it rumble through you infrasonic but your mind is deaf to the language of the world and you choose to assign me to the unthinkable…