the goddess walks on

decay smells good,

i muse as another flash of orange

presents itself to my sneaker.

crunch.

crumble.

snap.

my steps play a role

in life's great turnover.

with one movement i create ash

and fragile bones crush beneath my feet.

i feel like kali --

the great devourer --

as i walk and plod through death.

all dissolves before me.

farmers remove gold from dried earth

and hang up their scythes for the season.

i watch as they scurry towards the hearth

and shut wooden doors firmly behind them.

i stand on resting soil,
stick out my tongue
and create a new universe.


in the silence that follows,
i join the dervishes

and spin faster and faster

in orbit around something holy.