shed hed

fall is here  in full abundance.  this afternoon, i am running, dancing outside the country home ,i am residing in monterefrasine, toscana,  full uv olive trees, and vineyards.  rolling my body on th bumpy cushy land, like a fallen olive into the fresh dough uv a pizza waiting to go into the wooden fire. 

 i am resting my head on the dirt, ears touching the earth, and listening.

 luv listens. luv leaves sheds clothes running naked water against skin swollen, opened, like grapes bursting to make wine.

 i listen to the stem.

 luv listens sempre sempre. (always always)

all ways all ways we go.

as all roads take us to rome. rewind. and one sees only wind returning the spit back, back to life, karma continues, and we start again.

gaining the wind rustling burnt leaves.

 keeps me company,

while my past wrestles with me.  nothing escapes us eventually. 

 i know this and am facing life with my feet on the dirt, wind blowing thru my hair,

 allowing me to blow lovers thru my digestive system,  a coiled snake in stomach,  stuck memories shuved in the shed.

sun breaks thru the small window pain in my heart

liquid  honey drops where there are memories waiting to be stirred to finally relax in the bed uv chamomile flowers i sip before i rest my head at night.

this mid- afternoon, i am rolling on the earth to create momentum, fire, to boil to boil, to b liquid as oil

i am looking for that space, the T time, intersection, cross roads 

 arrival uv when body will agree on the hour ( the hour to eat, sleep is precise in italy)

 to light the wick, put the wind on the flame,

leave the lame vine, and

  f 

a

l

l

 ascend into the roots to be next years wine

grapes delivered to make the holy spirit fly.

 i stand on tuscan ground, full uv bumps and small but sturdy trees,  

land that has equal up and down like two sides uv the same flower.  soft, gentle rolling hills, up and down, tell me they are uv the same oneness; tell me about the natural beauty inside my terrain, my body.

the grass is green on this side and on the other.

enough comparisons, i am sound, i am ground. rrrrrrrrrrrrrr tongue rolling my r’s italian r’s u use ur lingua, to be…

round here the collinas move in long wavy circles like yarn spilling on the ground after the little kitten has decided to play with what nonna was turning into winter socks.  i am dancing, spinning round round,  little girl, spilling my weight,  feet so ready to take the weight uv the world, not on her shoulders, but thru her powerful pelvic hips made to carry water with hands meant to build something stronger thru a spirit that is deliciously stretchy,  rolled out,  hand kneeded, olive oiled dough

 to make pizza. 

                                                                                                                                                                                                    here i am, contrary to the fall’s crisp wind

 ripping off my shoes,  circling the lines around my feet feeling my legs plant into a paradise for fruit to grow (especially the kind that makes wine).   

i walk into the mid-afternoon darkness

uv a small dirty shed, on the corner uv the farm adjacent the land i am living on.

 inside, i am saturated by a thick musky silence.  the grey dusty hue absorbs the loud murmur uv bull shit mind static. there is a smell the best manure to shed head.

inside, there are shovels to dig, buckets to carry, bunnies raised to eat.

hands clumsy, i fumble to open the latch of a tiny wooden window slightly higher than on tip toes, i can reach.

prrrrrrroooow, i manage and a gust uv wind pops it open

to let in the soft sweeping howling uv the wise green mountain side,

where a bell tower, on every half hour rings,

whisper

” u, u, u,

sweet  

luving luving u,

brrrrrrrrrrrrring it

 is time”.