A Sentence

Likely we would have chosen as a bountiful route of escape from the organizational mantra of planetary obsolescence an inner alchemy other than that of poetry and related matters had we not been riven or lifted a book called Illuminations, which we sequestered to an oak grove in a cow pasture on our grandfather’s farm, and devoured like an alien Eucharist until its seedlings therein of soul sprouted and spread the wings of another world is possible, if not only possible yet present, to remain throughout, in miracle of mundane breath and wealth of stars winking in their dust.

June 23, 2024
Baker Creek NV