Root Cap

it's-this-simple?

to be in love is to work at thinking so thought can exceed endeavor
the way roots work so seeds that convene with either transcend being buried

the thing-in-itself

beside eternity

in gathering we come to a side that in the best of time
withdraws a between that a sun empties into—we convene
to conceive & then go in peace only because
this is what we call for

divinity before old age

a dimension of eternity

what lives?

beside the withdrawal of what cannot where nothing is
this "is" is the romance of becoming—how starlight
makes vivid the call for existence

here is a “side” that bears—its being withstanding the distance
that otherwise is absolute resistance

we, who collapse immortality

what lives?

beside embryos there is a lot to be said
about “reproduction” not the least of which is death

& beside this?

sleep that burns away the fire all death is pregnant with

a planet

buried

I can think of life
thanks to things like the weather of light—this erosion of emptiness in effort
to raise the dead from that in which I thank those who think of death instead

a seed

the interred

the sun endeavors, confident its dark—no longer an “intent”
tending instead toward our existence (“nothing” than its effort)
—is engendered.

how is this so? regard the pores
that holes under take

an embryo’s appetite

awake