The Sunday Poem: Sierras from Above
(Visited 4645 times)Sep 102006
From heights we learn that nothing’s very high.
These seams on earth, as raised as stitching, are
The tyranny of gravity made wry.
The mountains: hands, folded and folded, turf
Brown hand upon hand upon hand twined overlapping,
Quiescent, senescent under blanket earth.
Softback, spineback, brokeback, extruded round;
All life, from here, is mold discoloring
Rock, a growth that could be wiped away.
There is a loneliness where aquifers
Reach spindled fingers in the lightning of
Erosion, and do not touch.
One Response to “The Sunday Poem: Sierras from Above”
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I was thinking about that the other day actually.
Thats why we need a space elevator.