American

Poetry & Prose March 19, 2017

Coal pressed under hard granite over years becomes the stone that reassures her that she is loved.

A proton of light travels across the universe for twenty-nine years narrowly avoiding rocks and planets until it reaches my eye on a night when I was feeling lonely.

On a hike I stop to pick up a rock and wonder if I am the first to have seen what is underneath.

A Redwood, borne from the ground, climbs until it is eighty and it is buried with a man born on the same day, both now polished underground.

Water collects in a cloud on a hot day over the pacific, a strong north wind starves a forest but drowns a family.

A man lives for eighty-seven years and dies.

Print by Daido Moriyama Untitled

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.