The spirits said to me, “Wayfarer what keeps your heart beating?”
I walked the way and said,
“I’m turning the earth with my footsteps
I’m turning the earth with my beat
For without a beat there’s no turning
No primal rhythm to meet.
No clock.
No wayfaring
through the tide of green each spring.
No spindle to carry threads.
No snake or snail.
No screaming to the bone
in a beautiful patch of countryside.”
I walked the way and said,
“No heartbeat can exist alone,
It needs that full cheeked, delicious mouthful of
hostile conditions with spirit –
It needs the wayfaring water bear,
who between each beat’s
suspended animation
knows there’s magic
in voluntarily dying –
when the whole world ends
like a red, silk curtain
rolling softly
through
a little
gate.”
The spirits said to me, “Wayfarer what keeps your heart beating?”
I walked the way and said,
“Without a beat there’s no stream.
No dream.
No longing to be loved.
No yellow rattle.
No sorcerer delicately stretching
hell.
It’s the daisy that keeps my heart beating.
The day’s eye.
Eye, Eye, I
It is I who wants the key dug up,
the gate unlocked
and the whole world appearing
again.
I am the wayfaring water bear,
Who turns the earth with each footstep
Who turns the earth with each beat
For without a beat there’s no turning
No primal rhythm to meet.”