Poetry Boot Camp: Rock Man
March 15, 2010 § 6 Comments
Today I held a dinosaur bone. When polished in the grinder, it runs red as blood, the Rock Man tells me with a grin. Caressing his stones with weathered cedar fingers, he floods me with his history: An Alaskan fisherman fueled by potatoes, coffee, cigarettes, and gas. A hunter of exotic woods: teak and mahogany, lost cargo from China and the east, beached on remote Canadian shores. A boat builder who moved his precious lumber to the Colorado mountains, built his beauty and sold it dry. Now his sea is the high desert of the West, and his ship the arms of a gentle, curly-haired Finder of Lost Things. She mines metals rusted-ripe, discarded trash, to build angels that guide their passage. He unearths tumors and polyps born in belly of our Mother. Time travelers, they are, exploring the mementos of the earth.
Special thanks to Barry George.