Sunday, April 25, 2010

In My Stove

A log can burn,
Release years
Of gathered sunlight
From its rings.
We also burn,
Metabolize the
Ageless light
Of things--
Far fires,
Stars unknown--
And to the
Light of stars
Return our own.


  1. I am gradually realizing more your choice in posting to the three sites you have: this one IS "invalid's workshop" and I always feel some healing energy from your posts here. It's still Sunday night, and I'm not that cogent or concise in my thinking or responses mechanism to say what it is, but it is....

  2. I posted this because it's the healed version of an earlier, longer poem traumatized when you and I kicked the "haruspex" out of it. You were right!


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