Today's poem is by Adam Clay
[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
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
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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