Extra Hidden Life, among the Days

Sometimes  ,  when i'm very tired  ,    i think of extremophiles    ,   chemolithoautotrophs & others with     power for changing not-life into lives  ,    of those that eat rock & fire in volcanoes   ,     before the death of the world but after   the death of a human ,    of their taste for ammonia or iron  ,     sulfur & carbon ,   somehow enough of it to go on ...     As workers taste revolt       ,   they grow at the vents of oceans   ,     turning mute vapor into respiration            ,   changing unhinged matter to hinges        ,  near the rims of sea trenches or the caves     ...     Our friend wrote of writers living              in gray hiding, ,     of those who love glass & early freedom   ,    steep sand & late freedom       ,     sex among gentle or bitter grasses     ,   those with a taste for blue or belligerence   ,obscure lives, she called them               ,   the writers of radical mind     … The living prefer life    ,  mostly they do ,   they are ravenous ,    making shapes in groups as the dying grow     one thought until the end ,   wanting more specifics   ,desert or delay until the i        drops away into i am not here,   the mineral other pumps & vast vapors  ,    ridges & shadows beyond the single life it had not thought of—