Like all of human kind the rocks along
The narrow beach are all somewhat alike
Yet each entirely different. We
Pick them up, Honey and I, searching for
The ones we want, the ones that touch us. They
Are like us perhaps or is it just at
First sight or recognizing an old friend
Bending our bodies down examining
Delight or finally not delighted
Letting them drop but oh the ones we want
Spots or lines throughout coming to be loved.
Do the clouds touch the mountain, theÂ mountain
The clouds? Is the stream going down the rocks
Or the rocks up? Do rocks pick friends, friends rocks?
The stones in the Vimeo come from all over the world picked up at some point in some year on the beach or mountain. The sonnet occurs as my friend Pat Maples and I pick up stones on the rocky beach on the Isle of Skye, 2009.
The photos of stones in different hands were taken at Bill Kushner’s 80th birthday party on May 31, 2011, hands of New York poets and writers. Never knew how big Lewis Warsh’s hands were till I took a picture of them. Anselm Berrigan and Karen Weiser’s little daughter, June, absolutely knew the stone she wanted and held it up very well.
Jeff Wright liked Sonnet 193 so much that he published it in Live Mag, Issue 9. You can check it out with all the other art and writers here: