[I Saw My Face on the Dull Head]

I saw my face on the dull head
of an ax and forgot the passivity living
in a grain of wood.

                        A bowed saw cannot do what the wind
will do,

and instead of a fire,
I become colder and finally cold.

The brute products of nature are unstable

for I am weary of sleep, confused
by the difference between my hands and feet.

Gathered rest in the philosophy of wood.

          For centuries I have taken up this space

and heard the knell's unending call
for the unfolding present all around.

Copyright © 2007 Adam Clay All rights reserved
from Conduit
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission