Thursday Poem

For a Stone Girl at Sanchi

half asleep on the cold grass

night rain flicking the maples

under a black bowl upside-down

on a flat land

on a wobbling speck

smaller than stars,


the size of a seed,

hollow as bird skulls.

light flies across it

–never is seen.

a big rock weatherd funny,

old tree trunks turnd stone,

split rocks and find clams.

all that time


two flesh persons changing,

clung to, doorframes

notions, spear-hafts

in a rubble of years.


this dream pops. it was real:

and it lasted forever.

by Gary Snyder