I kneeled to the ground,

my hand pressed dirt onto

its clean soft surface

as pieces slipped between

and dripped back

to the common bond,

the relation of stones and boulders

and glaciers shearing

at the land,

leaving mountains unhooked,

forming unstoppable streams into

pulsing rivers, curving, carving,

driving under then rising

to the surface with gems

and dirt mixed like men with


and hair tossed by wind blowing

into noises at night,

singing through branches,

thousands of voices

like shadows without faces

as sounds circled like storms

banging and slapping heaven

into a wide lightening

of starless nights

putting shivers into souls

gathering around fires

where they left their

inheritance in the ground

below me.







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