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In Iceland

 I have no frigging idea if this works or not.  First draft, anyway.

In Iceland

In Iceland, they call the piles of stones that
   couldn't follow you, the black lava fields
Mark a trail "priests" because they show the
   black ice, uncertain underfoot, no
Way but do not go themselves.  They're used to
   tracks, skinned palms where I tried to catch
Faults, to the cracks in land and people.
   myself, and a bird shrieks from
A telephone pole has steam rising from its base,
   off in your direction, white shapes
Orange sulfur crusts on a layer of soil
   burst from blackness into gray sky
Above a hollowed ground. A seam of the world
   reversing snowfall, a single point of blue
Runs through the middle, and where it splits
   is there, is gone, with your absence
The core pours out to seal the hole.



( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Jul. 22nd, 2008 06:36 pm (UTC)
I like the segues between thoughts and concepts. Not sure I followed all of it but I like the transitions a lot.
Jul. 23rd, 2008 01:59 am (UTC)
Thank you for liking those! yes, two passages interlined and I had to stop myself from using italics *sigh* too obvious
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )