Two More from Petroglyphs

Talos

Born below the ash trees,
in their tarnished shadows,
hammered into being
in the heat of the lower level,
half machine, half bull,
he runs, a warden of the isolated isle,
bright in his bronze skin,
three times daily through sugary sand
at the command of his master, the mage.
And in his mechanical gait
he crushes seashells,
his feet whitened by the gulls’ droppings,
singing his forged songs of servitude,
shining on the edge of the surging sea,
scaring sullen seafarers.



Awakening

His black crow feathers
ignite into red flames,
melting golden bees’ wax
between the pinions.
He falls to his center,
drawn downward by word’s gravity,
until he lies like a silver stone
unconcealed in the clearing.

Two from Petroglyphs by Keith Harvey

Fishing

Cast upon impulse
a hand-made nymph
teases silver trout.
They pierce shadow green waters,
projecting their javelin selves
toward a breathless line.


Smoothest Stone

A line without end is breathless
Euclid


The smoothest stone weighs
heavy in the bed of a trout’s stream.
Silver scales shimmer
sanded by breathless time,
a spear’s head thrust into being,
resting on our meridian,
defining our shadows
against the word’s gravity.