Spring Rocks

March 17, 2008


Spring Aphorisms Told by a Sunlit Rock

By Daniel Abdal-Hayy Moore


If you comb your hair forward over a bald spot

don’t expect the wind to cooperate.

Slick ice horizontal is more fatal than slick ice vertical.

The mane of a rose doesn’t make it a lion

If stairways appeared in your mouth would those who enter

descend into fetid cellars or rise into solariums of light?

Eyes reveal what words conceal.

Words conceal what the heart feels.

The heart feels what distant meadows in

absolute solitude do at the

break of day.

Orange sunlight in shafts of gold hit the

heart’s meadows damp with dew.

The Iron Age was human beings hammering out

a few tools a lifetime.

Does technology have to lead to such gluttonous excess?

The jaws of the desert open wider than the

stomachs of forests.

Each inch of rainforest is kissed by acres of

rainfall leaning into its green mirror.

A mist wipes away cosmetic glamour.

King Midas couldn’t eat a seed, or drink a

drop of water.

At least poverty partakes of the wisdom of the dead —

everyone inhabits a pauper’s grave at last.

The wristwatch is our personal Doomsday Book.

There’s no song like the present

that began before throats first opened

and goes on when the last ear has been sealed.

Death is Spring spelled backwards.

Spring is a sunlit rock.

-Seasons Journal- Zaytuna Institute.


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