Grand Canyon
The Grand Canyon is like the brain
with deep, unexplored fissures and tributaries,
the main route well known by now.
I am walking, walking inside my mind,
a grand canyon, a planet of canyons, a system
of planets. The exploration may become dangerous
I might lose my job, forgetting to go or losing
sight of its importance. But the job is gathering
pinyon nuts and agave fruits, it is the main
river, deepest cavity, how I find the unexplored
canyons and tributaries of my neighbors
and my enemies. But is it a religion,
a reason for living. It is a marriage, for better
or worse, with all the other living. The concept
of life's brevity, temporary compared
with the time taken to carve the canyon, does
not interest me. Each moment has a weather,
is a mirror of all other moments. The naming
of things goes on. Cliff rose and wavyleaf oak,
new mexican locust and sagebrush among ponderosa
and pinyon pine, juniper. Once I know
who they are inhabiting the canyon, the raven's
flight is meaningful. The raven's rock cave,
search for seed and carrion, my home and job.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
