Monday, May 12, 2014

Smells like Spirit

In an aboriginal
unified field theory, Sound,
the primal all-belly, churns
every vibration around
wind-blown halls of a conch shell.

Matters foment and rebound,
karma chasing chemicals
to holy transformations
making not just sound but smell,
wafts mixed in air and airborne

wavelengths of primeval salt—
ferric, uric, sulfuric—
animate material.
Gas breath in solid music,
prime reason in primal cause.

That’s why your nose, mute and quick
is your wisest oracle.


  1. speaking of last lines...this one sings! Delicious!

  2. hahaha -- This poem reminds me of the photo of you dancing in a field. The words dance. "wavelengths of primeval salt" is stunning.