brick red blood of earth,
bright and rough rock of persistence,
stone of my mother who plants
in the darkest dirt,
stone of our humble ancestors,
known by our Chilean cousin.
Pablo, your hands are companion
to omnipotence now.
These stones are for you and for me,
each splinter of chert, each undissolved
dramatic cluster, dark quartz closely packed
from its molecules outward,
jasper for Greg Devlin's hands,
chert for mine and Pablo's,
we make a time-resistant fire,
we make the blood of man create rock
in these holes of boiled dust,
stones of light
sailing through constellations,
changing the maps of space
sky seen from a southern depth
stones deep in a nurturer's net
bright stones of June's December,
January's April rent.
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