a bird flies

across the years

it clung upside-down

on maples tree trunks turn'd doorframes

and pops under rocks

smaller than clams that spear-hafts split in half

funny, it is seen asleep --never

loving a dream of forever.

big flesh persons

weather'd rain all night

flickin the stars' light

on a black stone

old

cold

to find it lasted changing the size

touching a wobbling bowl

of two notions

and hollow skulls.

this space,

on rock, rubble, and flat grass land

was real

as a time seed speck

"For a Stone Girl at Sanchi" - Gary Snyder