i lose myself playing the dark
for a glare at worms—beauty
devoured as dirt
before the game is lost
i played a game
it reminded me how i used to have fun
getting lost in what i was told
was beauty—if i hadn’t seen beauty
with my own game
i came across this globe
over these many years
to search for what i was given
what i had been
in the gyration of this earth
this lifetime called worm
i traveled these years
taking time to unravel my open spears
my listening at odds with my digging
i wrote a game i played
something i knew in my crackled voice
a revealing that faces me
in my glass handtooled
by my son—i was beauty in his eyes
tall beauty for him what he saw
i had been—before i found him
he found me before i knew i was to be found
before i came across this globe
underneath the ground
a worm for my son
whose beauty—was my digging
This article appears in August 2014.
