Slow Things Down A Breath

Rabbit Trail #11

Prone

I’m drawn to the gatherings

The clusters

The Rhizomes

The interlocked

Forked trigs, branches, patterns, geometry

Circular still-stalked-skinny bamboo

Crowded together

Supporting the center.

I’m drawn to the wild green large leafy transparent skin, stems sticking out in every direction

The flaky-like horseflesh mahogany

Caribbean and Cubans closed in tight

Weathered and wing-liked-worn-layered-barked

Transplants that have held up the island

Layers upon layers.

Paths

Rabbit trail wanderings

The exploration of, life-present

Pausing for beauty

Momentary fading becuase things fail, and all faces change

A rose that will wrestle for its permanence

So bloom exponentially loud and alive, double your delight when you feel the Sun

So bloom exponentially loud and alive, double your delight when you feel the Sun

(So bloom exponentially loud and alive, double your delight when you feel the Sun

So bloom…

Exponential

Loud

Live

Feel the Sun, please.

And sometimes…

I’m only talking about attention

(you’re here, words, my eyesyour mind/your mind my eyes)

Thinking how a variety of one could be so cohesive

I’m drawn to the labyrinths

The odd-shaped concaved curves polished peeling emancipated movements

Like jazz to these optics

The knots, gashes, gorged skinned got us

here

Pulled towards chaos, in the chaos, of the chaos

Emerging soil and water looking for notes I’ve never seen

Shapes, death, shadows decay, buried, scaling scratching and shedding violence and risk all around

Always a threat of crashing, free falling from some branch or bar

Unnatural axes at the root imprisoning expansion

Avarice’ quick declines and sharp objects, we will never remove the danger

We know we wouldn’t wish it the same so what of what ifs?

But if it is what it is, Knuckle the fuck up and fight!

bob and weave, anticipate the angles

Sturdy daggers, needles, knives, nettles and artillery

its nature

Stings and high socks when I know there will be snakes

But there are not always signs

(And he said, “there are no snakes”)

I know ears have to listen and the breath has to slow beyond sound

To know what fear taste like
(Bear, Buffalo, Coyotes and Black Widows in my past)

The just due of beauty is our observations so we seldom notice it above our heads

In spaces

Voices and deer fern, seeds smaller than grapes growing to house the words and songs of an ecosystem

I’m drawn to these stories waiting to be told

To be acknowledged across crooked lines and colors, vines and railroad tracks

The ghosts of forgotten histories anchored in the ground and rooted in the architecture of an Antebellum South

Or a Lake County, swamps, encroaching Spanish moss , conquering weights, sands and soils deeply mixed to cave in a basement like a sinkhole

And I’m drawn deeper

Down through some fossil pathed corridor

A spectrum of green

Cohorts of electrons, neutrons and protons playing with light and time

Clumps, gatherings, groupings and magnetism

Attempting freedom across barriers, borders and spaces in between

I’m drawn to observing them

To slow down

To congregate these atoms of my attention to a breath

Here.

Now,

just a little bit on this land.

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Horseflesh mahogany (Lysiloma Sabicu)

Atlas of Florida Plants (Institute for systematic Botany)

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-Stayed tuned for what’s next…

If you like this one check out

“Rabbit Trails #1 | On the Way to Houston”