Saturday, July 31, 1993



Snake-blind I come from serpentine.
Under the monolithic science of stone,
the silence leaves me defenseless.

I am not yet cleansed of this place
of buckeye summer clouds.
The reminder of thistles,
and the marbled lichen plane,
a tomb for thought.
The heart learns to stretch
unlike unflexible scar tissue
diminished by old patterns.

In the tomb of my healing
the cicada storm reminds me
how taut the bow is strung.
The music of the shower,
the murmuring of my hips,
the thicket of my birth.

8/31/93?  Walker Creek Ranch
I also have 9/12, a Sunday

See also Blue Moon.
would we have held a conference on Labor Day weekend?