Rupicolous
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For Marlene Rye’s Tornado show of pastels....
I've, no we've,
yes, we've barely
breathed our breaths
except while atop a rock.
we call such stones
'that rock'
and ask after their sort
when (rarely when)
they catch our eye
and then catch our mind
and then catch our time;
then we walk off
though, in truth,
we're never off a rock.
This was to be
wordy gifts, lyric poetries
songs of green, of arch, of trees
but really, even a tale of
a thousand one
Trembling Aspen
is, in truth,
a song,
a story of stone.
Copyright © Stephe Watson | Year Posted 2018
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