Poem 1978

 

Avebury

 

Out from the heated
spoken word beyond
this mind
a world by some
sound of distance strained
opening its furrow
across the blood
pulling toward unknown
generations thrown among
ages lost
or a pulse of struggle
forgotten through
winds of extinction
now inert as winter
on the earth
that untidy bloom of lives
dreamed in an endless web
before we knew
a smell of roots which
push their echoing nerves
to search and blunder
beneath such ground
in a strangeness of fields
I have not seen.

Potent with Fate
the spell of Chaos.

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