…my eye seems to change nearly everything it sees
and is also drawn to making something out of nothing,
a habit since childhood.
– Jim Harrison (“Fibber”)
Always her ankle at the head of Live Oak Canyon,
toes reaching Sulphur Peak, long legs stretching south
to Rabbit Flat, to her breasts freckled with Blue Oaks
when the full moon hangs like a pendant beneath them
glowing as she sleeps, rising as she breathes, dark
hair cascading between canyons spilling into the creek.
The women who gathered here, gossiped and ground
what they found, spent nights away from men to heal
themselves – they must have seen her first from here,
alive and breathing, heaving with these hills of flesh –
solstice to solstice, sun kissing the length of her body
trying to awaken the dreams and visions in our sleep.
drycrikjournal 