Chunky masses bury curvy precious materials and remains.
Hot spot on the globe radiates with the purest current
Sent straight up through the earth sphere
And down again from the bluest sky.
Who sits in the center receiving messages from the divine?
Do you sometimes?
Do I?
One time I was locked tight in levitation
Praying to guides and gods
Then a human walked in the room
And asked a question.
{This post is the 6th in a series of writings inspired by the titles of my most recent wood assemblages.}
ALYSON KHAN [blog] 