Rabbit Trails | On the Way to Houston

Feb 04, 2023

What made the waters recede?

When the wet scrapped against the roof of the earth’s core constant, crude and unrelenting,

What made the waters recede?

And why did the wind work waves like a wheelbarrow tipped to the point it bottoms out

Waisting whatever remnant of the sea floor it was made of?

I’m wondering why the clouds are laid over the earth like one big wet piece of papyrus

Ripples and dimples, wrinkles like the mountains

No spaces open for a bird or burst of sun to slip in between.

I don’t know what the earth is doing

But, I know I’ve died in its embrace

I know I’ve stared at tree bark like Catholic fingers running over beads

Feeling the intricacies of patterns, depth of details with my eyes

Half-frozen fists tucked into my ribs

Observing,

How could a monk find a pace with no routine?

How could a mystic stay still in the predictable?

How could a cosmos close so easily for fear like the reeds bow at night?

And what did you come out to see?

A spectacle?

A shooting star?

A sun sinking beyond sight?

Something worn and wilted?

Or a telescope turned around on its axis like,

What are you looking at?

Ripples, wrinkles, dimples… you.

This poem is also a nod to my good friend and incredible artist Amanda , keep creating. Please check out her art.