unseen

Recipe for radiation,
or for when it feels like atoms have broken:
1 part Pine needle infused honey
1 part Rosemary
1 Part Reishi
(co-developed with Ariel Cooper for our Free/Libre Herbal Medicine Project)

Today when I thought about writing poetry I could feel my ovaries go in orbit. Poetry and winter go hand in hand but what will keep them warm how can the right one thaw how can it heat up like a glowing coal and how can I write about the pattern like a piece of snake skin that gets sown onto the leaves under which you and I bury
– the old century
– the idea of burying
– active toxins
– all protrusions
– two bodies
– and bury
until burying becomes a kind of folding or kneading; until it becomes hard to differentiate between self and soil. But it is important to. Important to do this work of differentiation lest change be unrecognizable and only celebrated. Folding under the leaves sewn together with a patch of snake skin then, that defies decomposition in its becoming exactly that. When is it curls when is it antlers when is it a tsunami? When is it not a splitting but
– the old century
– the idea of burying
– active toxins
– all protrusions
– two bodies
and burying becomes a kind of expansion, when fragility finally can be truly scoffed at without any concern about loss necessarily meaning denial of grief, necessarily meaning the absence of life. Nothing about this blanket upon dewey skin is fragile. Nothing about this fawn, nothing about differentiation, nothing about anything which is not what we are facing now, which is the splitting of some fundamental unit — radiation falling out. The splitting of a nuclear unit — this is a double splitting not the same as double death, but what is the atomic. What is fundamental. We are walking through the fallout. It is snowing on the coast of the far west of America. What does it mean to break off. What does it mean to drive on through the fallout. What does it mean to feel the deep penetration of moss in one’s bare feet, and to run ahead? When the curls of the waves are like drawings of flames and the color of our clothing, of our bedding, which is still expanding. Indeed dreams are a poor person’s spirituality, and let’s not forget it’s all about the weather. We are always talking about the weather: all secrets, all kin, all code, all fear, all compassion, all commonality. It’s the weather that we share, that shows us the true enemy. It’s the last thing we ever talked about as we went to sleep under the leaves, such brilliant recording devices. We are not not seeds. We are not tubers. We are the old century you and I we bury
– burying.

PARTIAL LIST OF SNAKE MEDICINE:
– Blue Vervain
– Pepper
– Turmeric
– Shatavari
– Echinacea
– Black Cohosh



Comments are closed.