Rocks, like us
carve out their own interiority.

You can see the labyrinths
and cavities of their thoughts.
Their concentric muse
their stoic laminations.

If you split a stone
you can see
inner ears growing-
whorls and hollow spaces
where the world
seeps through
as an engraving of resonance.

There is a velocity
in the utterly still.

If we really have that interiority
that patina, some call soul
it will look like
the carved striations
of river rock.

From the outside
it might appear
as the feathered ears
of a seabird.
As fronds of the wind

but inside
it will be sculptured
and motionless
like a stone
slowly whittled out into art
by what it can endure.















(C) Eric Ashford June 08