ABSTRACTIONS IN STONE
Do you believe the body? The stone wall extends around the field but
leaves a gap. I could enter but go to the wall knowing hands have placed
here, green grown over green, my fingers through the moss and there
heat. The smell of salt will follow.
If I don’t take the wall apart my eyes are distracted into shadow, a
steady with another as they pile stone. Their hands reach for each
fit. To touch the green stone is to hold their century, the day dissolved,
a million scattered apprehensions.
The hands, the grasp. The baking heat. This is believing rhythm even
desire is a stain and moss on moss and rock. Belief bent over mind.
earth holds it––the long wall––and springs up all around it. Manufactured––the
extension and the gap I can pass through. But I believe the body. This
the way of laying stone.