Magic Stone: More Notes on the Sacred Fire
Winds speak
I carry you
grey source of antiquity bent from time
Molten glass spiders through my skull
stretching over the wild precipice
like your breath
Fractured plains lay silent
for a moment
until thunder returns
so that I am emissary
—gravity’s child—
to bring you home
Stone
I want your wisdom
I want to suck the bright sulphur
When I smell your acrid heart
I am victorious green
and the sky is my sweet blue desert
Stone
I am your slave and titan
I am emperor of day
Stone
I am flesh
In my palm nerves grow between
bright crystals
Your slow heat awakens
to dance in my atoms and live.
1978
The Rocky Mountain poems, 1973 | Stone #2: The Spell
