when we travel on a
gravel road as occurs with
delightful regularity
bumpety bumpety bump
and brown dust
collects in the rim of the wheel
in the groove that runs around the perimeter
of the rim
or somewhere there
and when we stop to fill up-
i'm taken back to when i ran my small
finger inside that groove to collect a dust so fine
it was baby powder, but porous, thinner, lighter
and ripe with soily flavour
and i would put my finger in my mouth and
taste it mixing deliciously with my spit
and i would swallow the earth
i do it still
with the whole of the world in my mouth and on my tongue
and the tastes of all the wilds i want to swallow and keep inside me-
machu pichu, alaska, greece,
the yukon and oregon, mexico, wild ireland, wet and wanton
a friend brought a small stone from
the grand canyon - how could it be light as air-
and he put it in my mouth and i closed my eyes
i tasted the world
right
down
to
the
very
bottom
bottom
bottom
of
the
ocean
seasofme070713laid
YOU ARE READING
body
Poetrymy personal favourites in one book. these all come from older collections. hardly any of the media belong to me