cleft-dweller
whichway, richred, windwounded
uplifted rift
springwafting
loaded for erosion—
your will
encroaches, your rape
frees
it leaves
yet, leaves barren,
feels, but feels
no thing, no place
I am
left, loose, lost and
bend to you still
will you come to me
and forget to leave, as you come
O Deeply Blossomed Stone
murmur, as I do here
uprooted and flowing
the way you are pouring
the way you are bearing
pouring and bearing |