Archimedes' shrubbery

Finally fitting in.
I'm just like every other yutz                    
stuffing leaves into brown bags
bright'n-early on a sunday morning
getting dirty on my days off.

Finally feeling it.
There's something innate about tilling soil                
that makes the sun scrape across the sky
in a more seamless way.

Going to grow some of the stuff we eat
at least act like I'm alive.

Only prior experience was propagating certain green plants
in my bedroom closet as a kid, and same as that flowers aroma
reunites a clandestine yet sacred space to memory;
patience in my little garden bed, turning neglected earth,
crawling around on hands and knees pruning out early weeds,
sets at ease the urgency of my zealot matter.

Always so quick to declare war on the mundane.

When there is none, nowhere.
The lunatic who coined the phrase
has poisoned us all.
Now it's as a discipline to forget it.

Finally fighting it.
Transcendent subtelty is in every inch and their subparticles.
The toxin tells us otherwise, traps us on an island
eating the lotus of split second desires.

Finally found a lever that can lift the world

in the grease
that packs the bearings
of the smaller wheels.