Cosmology of a Wild Border
Cosmology, as taught by a square metre of wild border outside the rusted hulk of the derelict Airstream caravan I am sleeping in, in Kent, in June 2019
Nose to leaf, drink in a metropolis:
chlorofilled, brimful, this vibrating life.
Black eggs of aphids; tiny spiders in
mid-air hangings of invisible
geoengineering. Birth and death dance
up close: a hundred ruthless killers to
a thumbnail. Stood-upon daisies spring back
in deep hearted resilience. Columns
of ants climbing these steaming dripping stems.
Bellywet, dawndamp: chin in handcups. Lean in,
The infinite depth of root, earth, clay, stone
laughs at my ideas of separation,
reminding me: “you, the rusting Airstream,
this heaving lifeful earth are all one breath.
One common root, in a far off star bust;
one common end, the ever silent dark.