warm in your towel after I laid in winter some wildflowers seeds which grew out of my child-heart

 underneath cold water pretending to be Ophelia

in january 2006

with wildflowers which dried and hurried to freeze

bugs and twigs

beside the grandfather grandmother tree

IM FUCKING BLEEDING PLEASE HELP ME

as I swallow dirt after heapfuls of dirt

and float up to 

float up to

float beside you ghost 

MOUTHFULS OF EARTH OF MY MOTHER FATHER BROTHER LOVER

and spit it out and spit it out and spit it out

YUCK

fucking vile piece of earth tainted by so many layers of duff lifted up to soon

for your MODERNITY

and the bamboo forest screaming with bats

scratching behind my back at the Arden fair

trails behind behind the forest

and the young tender flesh of the bamboo meat

my mother being so open to me taking the kitchen knife into the ground to lift it up

as if reading a single article about how it takes ten years to train to cut YOUNG FLESHY UNDERGROUND bamboo is enough

when i hold the kitchen knife in between my teeth

between cutting different pieces of bamboo

and carrying long 20 feet pieces of it through the 

annals of my childhood 

(you know what I am referring to.. the Morris library at the University of Delaware? we dragged FOUR pieces of bamboo into its lobby in winter, and the snow was pink and sparkly)

when you see me grit my teeth and bare it

how could you not know i have heaps of dirt covering my teeth

and underneath I am screaming so very loudly for help

but when i look down, I see myself, BOCA ARRIBA, the gauze, the genocide, the hospital, the Palestinian and half-Palestinian crying like a siren and no one listening

silence all around 

and all i am is some ... flesh-book in the library that recorded all the stories she has ever heard, and together they make a beautiful sound called noise