Friday, March 27, 2015

My Fingers



Visit me in my mushroom tower and I will come to you
down this deep dark ditch amid tinder black flowers
down to the buttercups and dew.
My fingers have ridden through the forests of your hair
and slept on belly-gold prairies.
They’ve explored your hidden valleys, climbed snowcapped breasts,
and on your beach hips have rested.
Tanned and naked there you stand, strata in the earth  in layers of
dark
light
dark
light
dark;
while (miners in anticipation) my fingers tremble….

And then it is we who are the layers in the dark, quaking among bedrock,
hardness melting into darkness, joining in new formations,
stalactite buried and unearthed buried unearthed buried unearthed
through the long geologeons of night

till finally separated by a fault

…and our sky becomes snow on coal.

-- Duane Vorhees

No comments:

Post a Comment

Join the conversation! What is your reaction to the post?