Saturday, January 05, 2008

New Poem: Minutia


I am not of this world, and yet
the mossy stone is my heart,
veins of quartz are my skeleton,
the raven's caw is my voice

Sabino Creek flows with the blood
of my memory, tumbling over rock,
carving its path through the canyon
as I seek my way through each day

life is found in these particulars,
bones crushed beneath the weight
of regret, shedding the skin of the past
with all the urgency of a snake

my flesh is earth, dissolved in rain
and solidified in sun, of this world
and completely foreign, rooted by ivy
in the darkest crevices of being

how then seek connection, give voice
to elements? I am not what I appear
and so much more, an ecology
of minutia, more expansive than night

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