Poetry > Individual Poems
sidles in on a mood.
A gentling of endings blurs
the edges of geography,
hangs out pale lights.
Wisps of ascending mist,
languid as incense,
invoke the dark coterie of hills;
spent hope easy with wilderness.
We trespass on absence,
how it's become landscape:
shored mountains of shale,
the rained-on loveliness of slate;
and deeper, further,
imagined voices
drunk on consonants,
proclaim the stone certainties.
But it is only the stillness,
how a land reclaims its silence.
Along the untended valley, light
lingers, flares—and slips away.