Friday Poem

Loose on Earth

A tiny spark, or
the slow-moving glow on the fuse
creeping toward where
ergs held close

in petrol, saltpeter, mine gas,
buzzing minerals in the ground,
are waiting.

Held tight in a few hard words
in a dark mood,
in an old shame.

Humanity,
……….. said Jeffers, is like quick

explosion on the planet
we’re loose on earth
half a million years
our weird blast spreading—

and after,
rubble—millennia to weather,
soften, fragment,
sprout, and green again.

by Gary Snyder
from Danger on Peaks
Shoemaker Hoard, 2004

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