DANIKA STEGEMAN





FARADAY


A woman tells me you got the lucky seat.

We're in the black desert. I'm in love

with this lichen. It thrives in all climates.

The land is volcanic. I'm filled with admiration

for the earth and its capacity to out-

live us. I'm well-informed by my fears.

I hear women singing among the rocks.

They blend sonorously. When they emerge,

they wear brightly colored dresses

cut from the same pattern in varied jewel tones.

Among the petroglyphs, unspooled thread or

spiral galaxies. I've heard "Maneater" by Hall & Oates

twice today on the radio. There can be no alternatives

to that which is. Let us accept the worthless present.

Snow collects in the creases of mountains.

The light prisms outward as we fly over

cumulus clouds. There's relief in it.

Intimacy. I can hardly look away.

I'm sung apart. The ground moves away

at tremendous speeds. It's got

nothing to do with you.








AUTOCORRECT: THREE