I cross the corpus callosum: clumps of gray rocks
transmitting voices from the other side of the river
to the other, pulsing with uncertainty.

Left ring finger's bones rub, lungs suck in sweet scent
of cedar stacked by the side of the road, and hauled to
bridge a stream that no longer flows, like the grammar
of spoken words.

One day, trudging out of the forest, I sat next to a man
with a mane of white hair and a smile creeping across
his lips like a caterpillar crossing a downed tree.

By the depth of the lines circling his eyes, I could see
the imaginary animals are not treated in a more fantastic
manner or given any special attributes or qualities that
would serve to separate them from living animals, except
that our deepest thoughts cannot be conveyed. So we

listened to aircraft
roaring over-head.

 

 

the imaginary: P. Gravestock, “Did Imaginary Animals Exist?” In, D. Hassig, ed, The Mark of the Beast: The Medieval Bestiary in Art, Life, and Literature. New York, 1999.