|
INTRODUCTION
Old is the high desert basin
A lake twenty million years ago.
Old is the pile of red sandstones
Fractured underwater deposits
Harassed now by sun and wind.
And the rain seeping through cracks in rock
Rising vaporous in the ancient salt beds
Miles away—older
Than the one-seed juniper
Sprung from the blue ice-age clay
Still malleable in my hands.
Older still is dawn chasing after the stars
And the sun in the navel of the sky rushing
The mountains soaking in purple to
Tilt and dip into the gilding shade.
This is where electric storms gather
Where shoals of rain drag along the horizon
Like skirts of gigantic maidens dancing
Lightning bolts in hand
Ground rumbling under their feat.
This is where crow rattler rabbit coyote
And antelope run into each other.
Where the other day
My life fell out of my hands and
Like a ball of yarn
It rolled away unwinding
Far beyond the horizon.
*
A breeze combs the juniper trees
Touches my hair.
Whispers in my ear—
"It is I, Stone,
Speaking.
I can tell you
How you came to be
What you are today.
I spit of fire
Petrified in the hollows of time
Have seen it all.
I was there."
A white dot floats up
From a fold in the brain
Swells to the size of Moon
Come full circle
Fills up with currents overlapping
Like skeins of yarn.
I blink and
Currents at the surface ripple
Like waves chasing each other.
I blink again and currents
Beneath the surface spin giddy
Reverse direction and
Those at the core recede
Into the dreamy indifference
Of distances.
A spark rides the currents
Spiraling inward and outward
Glowing brightly near the core
Pale at the outer peripheries
Of the sphere.
"The spark is
The quick of your being.
You hear a whisper
Little Spirit delivers
The whisper.
You think and ponder
It leans into the wind
And knows how it is.
Little Spirit knows
What it needs to know
Without understanding.
.......................
See you tomorrow."
And I came back tomorrow
And tomorrow and this is
What I was told—
|
|
|