DISCOVER part III (seeds of death: a metamorphosis)

i  a m the echo of rain
on cracked blacktop
and the cracked blacktop painted
over with middle school designs
in powdered chalk
all in a beautiful array of
sky blue   strawberry red   tangerine orange
hot pink  and white
and the cracks in the
chalk of hopscotch   foursquare  and
four fingered families on the playground
over at echo hills on
stow rd 

i  a m the silhouette of stretching shadows
in the eyes of God
and porn stars
the darkness of death in
every pink sunset and
p e r i p h e r a l   sunrise

cutting through the milky
cotton ball puffs like
the beauty of birth inside
every carcass in graveyard wombs 

they are wrapped in linen under six
feet of  f o r e v e r  providing
nutrients for the soil  and the worms  and
the dust from the dust
beneath the new roots of the grass and
the old roots of that ancient maple
over on 91 that stands guard
with the pearlescent moon
against the coyotes of the night

 i  a m the slaughtered pigs
crying in the puke of
the vegetarians  and i am the
smiling rose on the casket
and the moaning dogs of
sherwood acres
and i am the ghost of
that old slide that burned
down a few years ago
in sherwood acres park
only the dogs can hear
my cries

i  a m the decomposing deer
in the woods over in
sherwood acres park
staring through an empty
window  and i am
the gathering flies and the
animals that devour the
remnants of the deer

i  a m the first frost of winter
and the last leaf of fall
and i am the milk inside
every maternal breast
and the honey inside every hive

i  a m the life and death
between dreams and wake
discovering the world between
fiction and reality
and i am the ghost
of the robin hood over
on east main street
they say you can still hear
the hums of the local bar bands

in the wind

i  a m the thin strawberry
blonde girl with skinny jeans
and a plaid winter coat
purple lips curled in
an evasive smile
walking towards the 12 story
library in risman plaza

i  a m the smell of turkey
in the oven and the
image of the gray smoke pouring
out and curling as it hits
the ceiling

i  a m the beautiful girl chasing
the  o h i o  sunset
and the boy
watching the  o h i o  sunset
whose drawing pictures in
his mind's playground
caked with cracked chalk
of future sunsets

i  a m the smiling fat
cat in the photographs on
the wall  and the paw prints
unsmiling  and i am the
halt of the engine
at the stop light  and the
bench at fred fueller park
where the young man sits
listening  and the writhing
worms under the rock
and i am the black pen set in motion

i  a m the freckle on the fly
in the doorway of the
student center  and the cigarette
butt on the ground before
satterfield  and i am the stars
that twinkle in the vast horizon
of a poets eye swallowing
the depth of  o c e a n s  
and i am their mmms and ohs
intoxicated with the staggering
drunkenness of words
and none of that watered down shit

i  a m every song ever bled
and swallowed in and out of key
in green hymnals and white ipod buds and
static radio airwaves and marching bands
and i am the seed inside every blooming smile  and the smile
in every teardrop echoing against blacktop 
and i am the garden metamorphosing into every color
and i am the scarlet rose on the
mahogany casket in the garden my
soul has been reaping