WHEN
THE SUN GOES DOWN
When
the sun goes down
the flood begins. Lettuce leaves open like orchids
in spot lit clarity,
bread flowers, fruits mature and drop.
Grass green as emerald
flows with the
currents
of the sea.
This
ovoid earth
turns through dark and light,
its flesh drowsing
or
aching awake with the
cool
night or the
hot
day. It fasts and then
feeds
on fresh breezes and
deep
tropical
currents
of the sea.
The
garden we planted next to the house with
seedlings already started in little green plastic boxes
is pushing up and out by that
cunning
combination of
sunlight and water that warms and
soaks
the soil seeds live in, in their
green
slow-motion rhythm
parallel with the curling
currents
of the sea.
And
when we fast during daylight hours, we turn
the whole thing upside-down.
so that
day becomes night,
but
we walk through the
visions
of our sleep and
interact with
other
wide-awake sleeper
going
along their
rounds
ill tile humdrum currents of the social sea.
And
when the sun goes down
the earth opens up for us,
day begins, we break our
fast, and
enjoy the feast
most flowingly,
the table is spread, dishes are
piled with glistening dates, water-glasses
beckon refreshingly. The
night
is on a slow barge down a
long river on its
gradual way to join
the
glimmering
currents of the sea.
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