go stop something horrible – wishing hans creek nans soil

when i am just water
i will find the blackest smallest vein
in the rock and flow into
first i queue then i spiral down
seeking spectrum of light underground

or ride with the heavy rains
carrying myself away
flying over dry creek bed hard rock made
everything water touching
ribbon of fall stretching a mile and a mile
in moonlight that turns sycamores upside down
to drink the misting air

but when we are just water in the blackest vein
limestone calcium seems and fissures
imagine we are the sweat of rock
unseen sun sequestered all around
dangerous cavern
slow certain seeping speed
ocean of mineral
cathedral of darkness where light is
imagine yourself
tumbling down
down down down underground
tumbling tumbling tumbling down
seeping seeping thru and around
seeping seeping around and around
seeping
seeping
down down down underground
dripping everywhere there is to drip
oozing thru rock pouring in space
finding and making
deep water down underground

suddenly a vast and winding hall
graced by a chihuahua dog
washed in from a human family farm
nearly immortal mineral canine mother
she walks and crawls and sleeps and dives the watery way
every crack and fissure has her measure
every moving being her chihuahua mother blessing
she tends a shoal of jet black darters with gold and silvery stripes
she eats them with ceremony preserving them with life
she licks the cavern bumble bees as they polinate and polish the rock
constant wings fanning watery silence
her saliva limestone phosphorescence
and so their flight

water would stay here forever pleased
but spinning vastness of timely space
lowers the dry creek bed
lets in yellow calcium sipping birds
and bats and night and morning light
the water queues
and has to leave
having waited millions upon millions
of perfectly radiated moon with light

you might go in where the water comes
gently slowly up and out
if you were the life of the soil about
you might pet and sleep with chihuahua mother
if you were the life of the soil about
you might steam the tasty gold silvery striped jet black darters
where earth heat rises
transforming them as you breath
if you were the life of the soil about

in true fact you might try anything
if you were to keep the life
of the soil about

keep the life of the soil about

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