Fall 1988 • Vol. X No. 4 A Poem |

Walking like a Waterspider

I Surface may be all: the skin not only the beginning point but the impenetrable end. No sense beyond the sensuous. Meaning, mere intrusion: extension of a fact plain and perfect as the act of touching with parched fingers a patch of sheet cool as a winter windowpane. II It was early March. The Amboseli plain woke to an unexpected gift of rain. After three days the mountain reappeared, serene and perfect as a painted mountain on a shōji screen. Bright birds hung like lanterns in the trees. Dusty herds of elephant, sluiced clean, gleamed like river rocks. We followed one and her newborn calf down a faint track to a water hole. Papyrus grew in clusters, spearing the burnished water where a pair of elegant Egyptian geese sailed their own reflections. A rise of ground led to a grove of thorn trees. Three giraffe foraged with grotesque grace among an unexpected tenderness of leaves. It might have been the morning of the world's first day. Below the trees the plain swept sure

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Supper at LaPush

By Linda Taylor

I Surface may be all: the skin not only the beginning point but the impenetrable end. No sense beyond the sensuous. Meaning, mere intrusion: extension of a fact plain and […]

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