first, kneel.
not to gods or kings,
but to mud.
let it swallow your fingerprints,
the whorls that named you.
a prince?
no.
a beggar?
no.
a thing that fits
in the mouth of the wind.

next,
forget the word forget.
let syntax unravel like old rope.
when the trail forks,
do not choose.
sniff and follow scents
like following the wind.
when the moon bleeds,
do not speak
lick.
language is a city.
burn your passport.

finally,
when the children find you
(and they will,
with their civilized hungers),
do not teach them
how to pray.
show them
how to starve
so completely,
the earth mistakes you
for a seed.
your shit is the only tax the earth accepts,
for being
a full being
and fully alive.