Friday, March 10, 2006


notes on the material of being

Rocks do not believe in sky. Such distance
is not possible. Wind and rain arrive
from nowhere then are gone. Then sun.

Beside Williams Creek, in July, the rocks
exposed in summer heat hold conversations,
compare notes. They remember winter fondly.

Water contains the only truth. In liquid
everything is possible. Small stones tumble,
or large earth-set rock erodes in current.

An awareness, how water defines rock
and stone directs a river’s flow.
Neither comprehends the height of a tree.

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