Thursday, August 8, 2013



This is a place because I call it one.
No, this is a place because I am standing
somewhere, in it. The place doesn’t need
anyone. If it relaxes into ruin, so what,
any dirt can become mud, and a lake
can become snow. The place is always
changing independent of what I want.
Also, it takes my ropes around its neck,
trying to bring it home with me. It only
tugs back a little, shaking its head to say
This is a place. This is a place. This is a place.


  1. Love the piece for Storm King, one of my favorite places to see sculpture.

  2. I was thinking today and yesterday and a few other days how some places leave an incredible impression on my mind that even in my dreams I visit them and how I have lived long in some places and there is nothing...searching for a memory but weird is that for some places..happy thursday Hannah!

  3. The beginning's sort of a variation on "If a tree falls in the forest . . . ." I like it. Nice final four lines, esp. the last one! What would you think of changing one section to "as I try to bring it home . . . "? Otherwise, it reads as if the Place is trying to bring itself home. But I love the sort of extended metaphor of the horse. I too have tried to ride and guide him. I bet we all have.


The Storialist. All rights reserved. © Maira Gall.