A Natural History of the Mind

I create islands in my mind


according to random whims.


I conjure biomes and terrains,

raw landscapes

of saw tooth mountains cross-cut

with indiscriminate rivers

ejecting boulders and dragonfish

over basalt cliffs to a primordial ocean

by the second,


lands where strife unfolds

in its unremarkable forms

of predation on winter-stricken highlands

and hunger

on drought-dead plains


swept with dust,

low and abiding,

unfurling headlong

before the rain.



I imagine lava rock teardrops

tossed across the sea like


where a goatherd tends a flock

on club moss

among tortoise shells and pine cones


as salt dissolves

cairn stones, atom by atom,

cobbled haphazardly

atop a battered headland

beside a sun-bleached femur


above the gorge where, once,

eyes opened one dawn to dust

and light

shot through with the swell and crash

of time’s shore.