Sketch from the Transitive Valley

I notice man sees horse grazes grass grows itself.

Wind blows seeding grass sends hay scent wafts with air through valley.

Valley funnels day breeze upstream points east breathes hay-scent air lifts moisture.

Chill makes droplet holds pollen seeds droplet grows chill.

Drop pulls earth pulls drop drops itself.

Drops join one another wet soil grows grass blooms itself.

Seeds seed grass greens valley holds me/man/horse/soil grass swells all.

All swallows one drinks pollen discolors eyelid blinks itself.


by Bill Yake


Bill Yake is the author of three poetry chapbooks, Confluence (Radiolarian Press, 1995), Giving Critters Short Shrift (Radiolarian Press, 1996) and The Faces of Birds (Scatter Creek Press, 1998). His poetry has also been published in Wilderness Magazine, Fine Madness, Puerto del Sol, the Seattle Review, convolvulus, and several anthologies. He has poems pending in Willow Springs and Many Mountains Moving.

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