Free Write 2 (week 5)

The first line comes from Komungakaa's poem Blackberries.

“They left my hands like a printer’s or thief’s before a police blotter & pulled me into early morning’s terrestrial sweetness, so thick the damp ground was consecrated where they fell among a garland of thorns.” The printer’s thorns consecrated my hands as I fell into terrestrial sweetness. The thief’s damp ground of thorns would not blot out the police, so thick in their terrestrial sweetness. This thief, fully terrestrial with a skull thick as thorns, catches me like a police blotter as my left hand drips sweetness on the damp ground. In the consecration of early morning I am Jackson Pollock with my hands pulled out like a garland of thorns. I am a thief with a blotter, a terrestrial printer dripping holy water until my canvass is a damp ground. These hands beg redemption, they will be consecrated and their story wrapped in a garland of thorns. The blotter pulled me up early, wrapped me in redemption and waited for the printer’s garland. A skull thick drips the terrestrial on my story, its ink pulling me back to morning’s sweetness to the damp ground where the words would fall among thorns.