Satori in Easthampton
a prose poem
Satori in Easthampton
The sun crests over Family Dollar. I narrow my sight to see spring’s debris drift across the parking lot. Dandelion seed heads sheathe wind. The shape of the wind; the grain of the light. Today there’s joy in the blur. To seize time by saying what surrounds me, when words instantly slip from the surfaces they feign to reflect. As if language were an anchor and not a kind of scar tissue. Today there’s joy in the voice that falters to locate me here.
Moments like this are those to savor. There are interesting juxtapositions in this prose poem. The sun cresting over a Family Dollar. The spring debris in a parking lot. The dandelion seed head sheathing the wind and grains of light. Each word chosen so carefully. So many layers in this poem, each time it is read, new meanings appear. “Words like scar tissue.” Wow.
Powerful.