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“Rim are there horizons where there is no horizontal where mountains fold space, hold distance up? embedded in a canyon our heads tilt instinctively. here earth meets sky, we can reach it; the rim does not shimmer and recede. we lean into diagonal lives, relieved of right angles eyes, arms, hearts drawn upward, vectored to ridgelines keenly aware of the slant of time, its shape and substance; it is a wedge; it moves along ray-stroked slopes; we pass into it, are passed over.” — Laurelyn Whitt
Rim
are there horizons
where there is no horizontal
where mountains fold space,
hold distance up?
embedded in a canyon
our heads tilt instinctively.
here earth meets sky,
we can reach it; the rim
does not shimmer and recede.
we lean into diagonal lives,
relieved of right angles
eyes, arms, hearts drawn
upward, vectored to ridgelines
keenly aware of the slant
of time, its shape and substance;
it is a wedge; it moves
along ray-stroked slopes;
we pass into it,
are passed over.