How The Heart Beats

I wrote this while several miles from any trail in a national forest.  Standing beneath a waterfall if you are quiet enough you can hear the rhythm of water against rock.  I wanted to make the connection between poem and visual experience, and this came to me.

————

The line in the woods 

breaks for no one 

but itself, no one 

ever here for a horizon, 

creep through trees

to glimpse the edge, 

turn the page without 

turning, words trickling 

through sedges alight 

with their yellow torches

that still dim at night, 

no, only here to taste 

that sentence after falling,

piling at the bottom 

in bowls of ice, the center

pounding rock, undulating 

pulse of the earth.

By Sam Calhoun

From: United States

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