Tuesday, October 16, 2012

A rich elixir of sky



So the first thing out of the dawn’s mouth,
besides the sun, that is, is a word that circles
the dewy webs that dot the green bushes like
fingerprint starwhorls, a word whispered low
along lengthening shadows that strike misshapen
in bent stick figures against the straight oleander
to walk their own dark path down the gravel road,
a word that, in the beginning, was the word, sacred
and holy, before anyone thought to ascribe it to a
creator or give it structure in canon, a word carried
in the song of skittering birds and in the mute turn of
worms unseen beneath tree roots, perfect and divine,
given unto tongues of all languages in that first moment
mud sat up to draw in decidrams of breath from a
rich elixir of sky to spit out the skin of a universe.

And the word was: daydream.

Joseph Gallo
September 23, 2012



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