Rim are there horizonswhere there is no horizontalwhere mountains fold space,hold distance up?embedded in a canyonour heads tilt instinctively.here earth meets sky,we can reach it; the rimdoes not shimmer and recede. we lean into diagonal lives,relieved of right angleseyes, arms, hearts drawnupward, vectored to ridgelineskeenly aware of the slantof time, its shape and substance;it is a wedge; it movesalong ray-stroked slopes;we pass into it, are passed over.
-Laurelyn Whitt
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