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Array
(
[sid] => 157920
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => One World, Two Feet
[time] => 2010-03-05 19:03:02
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => One of my feet is in the Catskills, one outside Leon, When winter comes, maybe Suriname, one in Cameroon leaving me open (and grey with lunar dust.) They are neither welded nor buried (as I reflect on the Atlantic), But have been acquired, pawed by the moss and the stalks. by the vines and the swamps- for I avoid the cities (and the canyons) and what is left? but the bracken and the mica- so that when I launch them I risk biohazard. Tonight I will sleep against the Alaska Range Silverthrone a thorn- Not knowing where tomorrow where to step where to gaze without doing damage, the power lines I snap the hamlets I halve must forgive me, for the impact of my steps and the misfires of my legs, for the crops I eat and any sleepless nights, when I’m restless, wondering- this world is green this world is temperate, this world is sand this world is stinging, this world is deep this world is luminous, this world is canvas this world is cobalt, this world is corrugated this world is fluid, this world is logic this world is ancient, this world is opiate this world is venerate, and a honeycomb with a gas rag. When will you stop wandering and settle into your homes? Where are you going, covering so much ground, gaining so much ground? What can you do with so much ground but no place to hide? no place to hide. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 119 [topic] => 21 [informant] => one_in_six [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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