Greetings from Lake Bonneville
Somewhere in Utah, a volcano’s stomach
growled, six million years ago. Magma
bubbled up, hot, thick, made into lava
by air. Pockets of gas formed in the quick-
cooling rock as it settled, dragon-haunched,
over the land. Groundwater swirled through
land’s veins, like magma, spat minerals into
the rock and then, into the hollows. Launch
space into the solid pieces of the world,
and see if it doesn’t get filled, caves
and their stalactite grins, tidal waves
beginning at earth’s split lip and hurled
at shores. Good old Lake Bonneville
shows up 30,000 years ago, yo-yos
in size, and digs its claws into those
rocky pockets (remember them) still
clamped up tight like oysters, before
they’re split. Here’s that round rock.
Your chisel. And you, who the clock
and the geode have been waiting for.
Per usual, excellent bonding of concept and imagery, great visuals creating ideas in the mind. Geology as anatomy was cleverly done.
ReplyDeleteI really, really enjoyed the rhyme scheme, too.
About The Curator, dinosaur poem, I especially like:
ReplyDeleteDid they know
that theirs was
an extraordinary ending,
communal, or did they each slip from
consciousness, privately processing
the individual calamity of being stopped.
I think that what we do and do not know is a huge and important subject. Also I love the issue of Private vs. Communal. Maybe because it starts a new line and stanza, "communal" seems a surprisingly wonderful word, more striking and effective than I can explain.