poems as hand- and foot-holds on a glass mountain

Five Words

A long-ago hill-climb unfinished
back into wordlessness
its ground as summit

a dozen years is nothing
inbreath, outbreath
oars flying forward over water

when elements won’t arrive
abandon fear and longing
a word will do

can’t be too precise
an untaught native totem
gave us this advice

an eye of eyes
ear of ears
are a word in voice



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