for Earth Day, 2017


Earth



Earth, builder of beauty,
her plumb line: a still point,
precious center, damp minerals.

What I am composing are
earth-words: a swathe of heat,
painted deserts, morning's musk,
saguaro green.

Upon my lips, misted whispers,
a fog's low roots, daylight's glaze,
dawn's red vine, dappled light,
cypress, corn silk.

I shake my pen
and from its throat spills
night's ink sac: salt,
stones, spiced stars.

I shake it more. It empties
this imagery, my feelings,
black sand, spears of pine,
a slow river's steady stretch.

Earth pushes us from her womb
where an underground gurgle, like a god
blowing into a straw, creates air bubbles,
first breath, birth cry.

Like birds we build nests, lay eggs,
feel earth buzz in our bones:
a jug of dreams, seasons, necessities.

------------------------------------------------

from my book: The Translator

©dah / TZ Press 2015 a.r.r.

"Earth" was first published in
'Eunoia Review'




Poetry by Dah
Read 719 times
Written on 2017-04-22 at 15:00

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text



Our beautiful planet! Why do we not care for this perfection?
Thank you for sharing this poem.
Ashe
2017-04-22