Yellow, #7, Air

Yellow #7 Air

I’d rather be a spiral than a snail.
Paul Simon

There are many human systems
used to dismantle the mysteries
define, categorize,
justify discrepancies.
We are guided by planets
related by genes, summed up with
numerology, spirited away by
transcendentalists, the I Ching can
read our bones, primary
perception is color,
an element, a season.

Thumbtacks on a map, I am
Yellow, #7 , Air
lean more toward runes
than the I Ching, ruled by
Venus undermined by Mars
Epona my patron diety
Jesus my dirty secret, I have
seen angels, never aliens

I don’t believe in ghosts, but
only because I don’t believe
in death. Autumn
is my season- finally

something makes sense!
But these depths I can not

with all these elegant
solutions holding us
In orbit: the networks
of climate, semiotics and
loss, long gone
feats of stars, the gravity
of extinct galaxies

Why do we still crumple
when love is gone?

How do we do not combust
with joy for ever
having existed ?

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , by vsvevg. Bookmark the permalink.

About vsvevg

Hello, I'm Abby Smith. I started this blog in 2010 to write about the pursuit of a self-sustainable life in rural Mexico. In 2015, my then-husband and I moved to Nicaragua, where we created a successful farm-to-table and in-house charcuterie program for a high-end beach resort. In 2022, with mad butchery and cheese-making skills under my belt, I started a sustainable food systems consulting business. Happily, I also have more time for my first love-- writing about food and the complexities of the simple life.

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