burning into soft sticky mass
friable
out of firedamp and bags of foulness
sign of life first cells
blooming whatcha call it
i am that
even on my back on a steel bench staring up and out an airport skylight
waiting for the light
rail
soil life
rising up breathing
upon trillions
on billions
on millions on thousands
on hundreds on tens
on this one spine
i am that fungal vertibrate
when to be shovelled away
burned with so many salamanders
source of so many waters
Till theyUME UNenthrall themsUSelves:
where is the
soul of a mountain forever lost