"Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity..." --John Muir, 1898

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Meditation: Poem


Peripheral Vision

You glanced at me with iridescence
Like wings of damselflies
Limned on spinning drops of mercury—
Heaving phosphors encircling apertures that
Snap shut like event horizons
Leaving in atrophied pathos
The universe
me
When you look away

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