Being Where we Aren’t


The Merger of the Two-Fields


The trail unwinds
To the left and the right
Like a dream ride on
A pendulum

But nothing takes us there
Except for strong legs
And the desire to elevate

The noise of the falls grows
As we ascend left
Fades as we go the other way
Fades without a new increase
In decibels

The yellows the reds the whites
Of the cascades burn —
Trees branch out
Touch one another
Sing to each other

 Like mimes you can’t see

Almost peak just past peak
The fire is still there

Leaves cover Her
Leaves appear in the sky
And cover Her ancient noble

Elevation meets downward flow
We’re always where we aren’t


  — by Douglas Pinson

Being Where we Aren’t
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