There are no basements in California
even so, the ground gasps and trembles
panting
in subversive growing pains, like mine
in a Rack
And I attest, above me, there's no rest
while downstairs I have dwelt
digging deeper,
while building up
Below deck, I amble
in underlying
immersion
Fathomless and zoetic
In my dungeon with my dragons
I learn to expire
and practice breathing fire
Stomping and romping around the moon,
only echoes left from the rite of passage
steps ghosts long to hear, in a heartbeat
Up there, herds and hoards stampeding
and suspend on high chords
holding up the roof by
ceiling the cracks
Beneath it all
buried in a netherworld
with the worms and bugs
the cold wet earth blankets
a dry eye in decay
Musty, misty, sodden and steamy
I will be the first to drown
when it all comes down
I reside below, with no where to grow
sown in subterranean.
Image By Vert (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.
