for D., who unwittingly donated the title
my friend says they like haste without hesitation
but how can i know my tongue knows where to go
which flies to grab and which flower (word)s to birth
if I don't stop and ponder the meander in the river
the giver gives us daily. what would it be like to
be (like a disco ball or worms in the ground)
multiply present, continuously in motion,
representing by embodiment the sinuous continuous
life verve of the multiply intelligent world?
not needing to conjure or configure but rather
consistently composed and having it all together,
illuminating or making more conditions for life?
or rather,
perhaps we already are.
Your poem moves me very much. One truth is that we do have it all together beyond the need to conjure and configure; and another truth is that the souls of us stop and look and pause and measure and bask and slow and pause. Feeling okay with the pace that emerges from ourselves, at any pace, seems the path, which is a beautiful one, but easy to wander from.
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