The Afar Triangle

I do not know the way a planet thinks.
I cannot plunge my hands deep in my own clay
The way a mountain plunges through the crust,
Nor run wild as a glacier through
The temples of the gods, nor sing a single note
That slides along the lips of the caldera. But here
That wisdom thunders through my feet,
    And shows the dance is measured
    By dancers keeping beat,
By those whose only measure is the dance.


June 14, 1999
August 31, 2000