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I am not an earth nor adjunct of an earth,
I am the mate and companion of people, all just  as immortal
and fathomless as myself,
(They do not know how immortal, but I know.)

Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

respire
inspire
then retire the burden of breath

slow the sanguine flow
nourishing pipes that have known the frozen winds of milwaukee,
and the sandy storms or iran


still the weary myofilaments
that stretched and squeezed
propelling iron and wine

lay to rest weathered joints, rust in their carbon hinges
footprints of so many that came before

calm a frenzied mind
that bid us a premature fairwell

take away bones and sinew, send them to the grass and dirt

leave only carbon footprints of light and love