Another wonderful poem. Your command of language is formidable!
The laboratory opens at dawn to collect the bones Warm grasses peer between tender deposits of calcium and coal bowing to their breakfast. Hard-shelled beetles labor to restore the fine lines between planes, between shade and shadow pit and fruit paint affectionate pictures in the silt the colors of instinct. Certain things remain, even after the tools have torn through earth, scarred its cheeks and dented its head Where memory is buried, patient flowers grow, pull their necks through the membrane of seed and steppe, roots retain their softness, their vivid burnt-red hue refulgent in the darkness of the soil. Stars arrive their dust jackets loose, curved over ancient shoulders brilliant collarbone and back, like a casual gown of skin and moss Eager to recite a paean to tree, to stone to bird and bone, at rest beneath the sky - buoyant in the earth�s imagination. |
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Comments 1 to 3 of 3
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