dykes day, a holigay
$20/$30

Mississippi Mouth

                                                  the zone of saturation is where the pores and fractures  
                                                 of the ground are saturated with water


Invitation dripping with speculation

The table has been made but not set

Water is poured and we remember

Words melt fluid builds and pools into Energy for Change

Seeping into ground fractures

A clearing appears

Running toward it we

Gush and build and gush and build and gush and

Rock is worn smooth

Mountains get dimples

Horizons get nipples

From every beginning Energy for Change creates slits deep enough for rivers finding home

Sites of memory recalling when straightened

Flooding in refusal

Your mississippi mouth

Your every beginning

Wet worlding creating a landscape over and

My god oh my god

We get to live here

                                                                       it can also be simply explained as the depth
                                                                       below which the ground is saturated


I know the day just started

But here I am with pruney outstretched hands trying to pull it into tomorrow

A yellow eyed woman greeted me with the reminder

Water elasticizes everything

But how might we keep the portal open I begged

By keeping it wet they whispered

Words world whirl

Creating the terrain and the weather

Our longing presented an atmosphere

And our combined breath made a sound

The water rises from our rivers to form a cracking cloud chorus in a sky becoming a stage

Turning the color Caitlin Cherry

My god oh my god

We get to live here


                                                                      the surface where the water pressure head
                                                                      is equal to the atmospheric pressure


The day became a century

And centuries became infinity

Because of the gushing

Keeping the world wet with words

WordingWorldingWhirling

They found the portal at your table

The watering(hole) a metallic two-way mirror to onlookers

Protecting an internet of intimacy

I paused at the window to marvel at

The world wide web

Made of spit and time

My god, oh my god

We get to live here


                                                                      at increasing depths, water fills in more of the pore spaces in the soils, until a                                                                            zone of saturation is reached


A holiday for the wet we

Transported by fractured ground

Unafraid of pleasure

Running toward its mouth

Screaming with ecstasy and flooding with remembrance

Suspended and submerged

Oh my god

We get to live here





Photos of Ayana Zaire Cotton sourced from https://ayanazairecotton.com/