a walk, camera in hand
Like tripping into a pile of bricks,
an oracle heard clearly. No
near-silent prophecies–doe sits still
beyond caution tape, barred owl
eye level after an uncrossed bridge–
heard clearly, this one. Listen.
The path continues. Follow it.
So from the foothills into din,
Eris marks the scene, cuts in
to burn or dodge ahead pace
in circles, blaze up, on, or dance
in the mist, promises obscured,
just keep moving. Later, I look
at the film, I find I left a piece
of myself behind.
2 thoughts on "a walk, camera in hand"
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I love”barred owl/eye level after an uncrossed bridge–“, and, “dance/ in the mist, promises obscured,/ just keep moving. Later, I look”. I love the whole movement of this; I feel as though I’m navigating a pile of bricks with particular grace and deftness. I see ruins, I see eternal nature, I see gods and prophecy bursting through the seams. You’ve made what I’ll assume is hiking what it really is: otherworldly.
What Goldie said! Perfect title And, the poem looks and feels as if we are walking along this nature path w/camera. Last line is interesting—I wonder at which point you left that piece of yourself behind???!