Each of these pieces
is the genesis of amber
a honey-thin trickle
of light
liquid words
aromatic experience
poured slow
collected
hardened
to unusual permanence.
I can hold
each
up to the sun
turn it
change angles
see captured
gleams
shadows
bubbled negative space
living things.
All become
more darkly transparent
more valuable to me
more familiar
warmer to the touch
over time.
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what coyotes talk about...
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5 comments:
Parallel blogs to participate in parallel universes. And also to make it esier for canines who despise Microsqueamish ventures, to leave pug marks here.
Limpid it is then.
Coyotes take weekend breaks too?
Being of a somewhat doggy disposition, there are times when I whiff something distant on the wind, and my eyes cross, my brain stops working, I go temporarily deaf dumb and blind to all but the smell, and I chase my nose until my tongue is hanging out. Sometimes I run a day or two before I tire and return to my (non)senses.
I hope the aroma was worth the marathon.
gegdi
this sounds like a poem in itself!
Oh, I think we can agree that just about everybody loves bunnies. Although I gather the precise nature of that love may differ somewhat between species...
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