Today I taste a word
crafted by an ancient man

sprung from a fissure
that divides our time

the sulfured waters
split our worldly body

life rises with the gravity
penetrates the fresh pine

carrying white blood water
caked along wooden veins

dripping, heavy into clay
cisterns of wisdom

along a floating system
a sluice of ebb and flow

wooden nails grow branches
a platformed village raised

of salt pans — drying
under the Spanish sun

raked into cubic piles
that water my tongue.

∞

Submitted as part of “National/Global Poetry Writing Month” (#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo).

Today’s prompt:  Day Seventeen:  move backwards in time away from such modern contrivances as podcasts. Today, I challenge you to write a poem that features forgotten technology. Maybe it’s a VCR, or a rotary phone. A cassette player or even a radio. If you’re looking for a potential example, check out this poem by Adam Clay, which takes its central metaphor from something that used to stoke fear in the hearts of kids typing term papers, or just trying to play a game of Oregon Trail.

30 Poems in 30 Days

All text and photography © Dale Schierbeck

…. more of my original Poetry on EatsWritesShoots here.