Sunday, December 12, 2010


I called it archeology
because the big word made my mouth feel good;
helped the two years between us shorten
and stand small, but strong next to the millennia.
Together we learned how the stones were cooked and bent and compressed:
and Metamorphic.
Only wet rocks show their true colors.
In the backyard we took hammers to granite
smashing our way through a molten backstory.

These days I steal beach rocks by the pocketful.
And sometimes, when I know nobody's watching
I'll spit on them,
think wistfully of hammers,
and remember who they really are.

done for poetry potluck week14


  1. Nice poems! I love taking rocks from the beach as well, they are simply beautiful :)

  2. I read another rock post earlier and my comment will be the same, "I love a good stone." Especially river stones..

  3. I like the idea of how you look at the rocks today to remember earlier times. Cute and effective.

  4. wow,
    what an equation.
    love your creativity here.
    well done.


  5. Glad to see you in...

    visit a few near your own entries, enjoy the fun reading..

  6. Greetings!
    Here is the end of the year awards 4 you, enjoy!

    End of The Year Awards 4 Friends of Jingle or Jingle Poetry Community

    Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

    At this time of the year, We wish you all the best !

    Link up a poem to our potluck today, We send blessings all the way to brighten your day!