The Silt Cycle
Entry for 2017-04-10


Why do I shave with my tee shirt on?
So Mother won't be embarrassed.
There are rules, ways of doing things,
natural ways. Honor these
and life remains in balance

Steel attacks and the rabble fall,
but Nature restores her own.
Around the sink in a lather crawl
the population of my face
and down the drain,
into cavernous pipes and ponds,
pumps and strainers, over the stones
and into the streams. A few escape,
then more, uncounted casualties,
teeming, swarming pieces of me,
into the rivers, thousands strong,
hardened veterans of Scraping Blade,
On to the sea!

Down to the Delta, delta down,
beards that were not to blossom.
There must be seventy billion pounds!
America's whiskers gather there,
islands of silt of a special sort:
Atlantis raised by its sinking hair

There are secrets in the undergrowth
where Nature can work unharrassed.
In the ground are roots of the cotton gin.
There, hairs-assembled decompose,
proteins quietly mix with rain,
up through the stem the protein goes,
spinning, infiltrating fibers,
and up through the drain of my bathroom sink,
a tee shirt looms.
I put it on, next to my skin,
so Mother won't be embarrassed