Monday, December 10, 2012

In Dark Vegetation



In dark vegetation I couldn’t see
my body or hear thoughts.  Fevers
rotted memory.  Maggots flourished,
established a parliament.
I hung in delirium, a sack
of neural bits and pieces.  Birds in
endless green hooted and screamed.
I was transported to a desert that
cooked off confusion, revealing
basic elements of who apparently
I’d been.  My body became obvious
once more, eating dry food and
drinking wet water. I worked
in the factory of noon—my job to attach
objects to their shadows.  Memories
returned, walking like scattered
soldiers returning across sand,
descending from red rim-rock,
shedding uniforms, looking for
lovers and work. 

Hans Ostrom, 2012
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