Mountain Meaning Iii - Death of Anthropocene
As I hike
The winding Rattler paths of Green Mountain
It’s tempting to think
Beneath my skidding leather shoes
These marbles of red stones
Were scattered and tossed here
Just today
Laid out
While I was still eating breakfast
Though I know
The mountain is rising from iron boots
Shedding its skin
Shaking to wind
Alpines cracking its rocks like eggs
Boulders giving way if you imagine a day
When the ranges are here
No more
Rolling down
In their own tide of time
Plunging without trace
To the bottom of a future azure sea
I have a strange thought
That if a black bear foraging this early autumn
Came along and found me
Perched on the moss of this throne of stone
Writing poetry
And began to devour me
I would keep my quiet
Until his stomach was full
Lumbering home in a bonnet of sunset
Me
Set free to the universe
Two women walk by
Shatter my silence with growls and hunger
One says to the other
“Well, he’s doing a lot better.
He’s been sober one year but he told me
He really doesn’t see the point to life
Anymore.
"I mean, what do I say to that?"
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