Two cold deep darks
with dancing stars and tardy moons
compress the narrow light
to morning all day long
The midnight sun
full-mooned by fog
laves both my half froze feet
my rump my hands
My lips and mouth draw hard
on willow wand
that penetrates the rock - Inyan - first born
that sepulchres the dead
the dry browned bits of twigs and herbs
that crackle red
aglow to warm the stone
the bowl - the womb
and witness to dividing
of the autumned forms of life
to smoke and ash
through fire that warms
the holding hand that cups
the living stone - Inyan - first born
that lifted
edges up the light - the sun
through fog and smoke
gives it a nudge - a smile
the pining love it needs
to start it back
a little north
to warm the half froze feet
that it has washed
and dried and warmed before
before
before it died
upon two woods
like willow wands
and penetrated stone - Inyan - first born
My heart is living stone
on fire
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem