Falling Stones

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How could a stone, mere Earth,
Falling constantly through space,
How could a stone give birth?
To all that moves with grace?

How does a rock become a bird?
How can it fly and sing?
It’s something holy or absurd:
The earth itself grew wings.

But when our people fell to ground
Our wings were vestiges of bone,
And when we saw the dark profound
We crawled away to live in stone

And hiding there our fears grew worse
Until we severed all relations
Our kin in other caves we’d curse,
And every cave became a nation.

This stone conversion from above
Has failed for us, it’s stone we crave,
Mistaking loneliness for love,
Brutality for being brave

Is this the only space we’ll share?
A thousand caves with guns?
We’re cornered here ‘twixt wall and bear
And doves who mourn, “thou wilt be done.”

Limited Infinities

limited infinity

The reader is being reimagined. While this is happening, I’ll shake my notebooks free of the rejected scraps of previous essays.

After that, maybe a new phase can begin. A phase in which writing plays second fiddle to something I can’t really name. I’m not a writer and I have no intention of being hitched to any writerly discipline.

The commitment to a discipline feels narrowing. An intentional commitment feels like I’m putting on blinders and being yoked to a practice that promises its own enticing infinity. An infinity within a narrowing frame.Read More »