INSTALLATION
Stones representing Braille translation of poem,
When You See the Soil
by John Walter
When you see the soil, her powers fade--
Before the plow, the scythe, the blade
Exposed as the cities rupture and grow
With each plant placed in a tidy row
Covered she bears the world below,
The roots, the virus, the seed's womb
Grass, trees, man, woman and soul
The sighted man God says he's blind
He's lost his sense of rhythm and time
Until the vision is felt inside,
The eyes, the brain, the hands can't see.
To get a feel for what's lost,
just take some nearby dirt in your fist
Roll it up in a little ball
Measure the moisture,
Sense the loam, the sand, the clay
Feel it all
Place a spade deep in the ground
Turn it over and watch it move
You'll see the color and the groove
Smell the sweet actinomycetes, the tiny tongues of lust
And there are more microorganisms to discuss
Let the plows rest
Keep the blade at bay
Grow some alfalfa hay
Cover me over with grass and flowers
Run across the graveyard's hardy crest
Think of a lover in the soil's rest
Don't let the soil slip away
The soul slips away
She slips away