Thirteen Years



We are walking into the turning of the world. A procession of suns rolls back upon itself, a new metal’s urge plunging into light. A turning and turning of silver into stars spins a dual dervish dance. ~ We are turning into the walking of the world. The walking burns in us, burnishes bright glosses into our eyes. Body’s heat and skin’s slow friction warm and soften stainless symbols. Time’s tempering. The hammer’s ring. The phoenix forge. Love’s refinement. ~ We are tuning into the waking of the world. With all we’ve borrowed, we walk into the blue What is old is made anew.

3 thoughts on “Thirteen Years

    • Thank you Natalie–I really appreciate that. I love to play words and phrases like puzzle pieces or I guess more like tangram pieces–I think that’s what they’re called–those colored geometric shapes that you rearrange to make different forms and images. It has always been a fascinating aspect of language for me how much meaning can change with subtle changes in spelling, syntax and diction.


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