i have always felt like a cactus
in the body of an oak. i live
with a hunger to grow my roots
too far, in search of water.
to me, water is
brine. there is a graveyard by the pacific
where i sit with yearning fever.
nearby, a garden grows bittersweet,
lotus root and wintermelon and taro.
to really remember, you must
stir-fry them together
with your mother’s soy sauce.
(it doesn’t need to taste good to you.)
(it doesn’t even taste good to me.)
but water is also
flood. drink too much, and you
will lose your own love. drink more,
and you will become loved.
i used to live in a castle of limestone
by a great lake, and all i could think of
was how to throw myself into it.
(where is the difference between)
(intoxication and illusion?)
when naked, water is
time. the river in my heart
flows both ways, but the rivers
of the world only go
downstream. it hurts to breathe,
but when we are oak, the only thing
we must learn to find beautiful
is our own trunk, hollow with fate,
but full of acceptance,
and strong enough to stand.
~1/2017
odyssey entry 9
viper veins entry 3
v1