The Marsh
Colorado Diamond
If geological time is
time times time,
we have mined it
nearby:
the continent's fifth largest diamond.
Just 45 miles north of the state line:
kimberlite field & fire.
I feel, I guess, as Niedecker did —
conflicted. There must be some
evidence in the pressure
that makes clear
the heart
opened
&
affixed
as it is
to a place in which
it beats consistently even
if only briefly: today it snowed
& thundered
for approximately
seven minutes & I
knew then: I
must register
quick shifts:
winds
flies born
& dying
clouds low-hanging
emissions
omissions
& seedlings
that may
long after me
become trees
able to breathe
what we've
released.
Turns out:
poems of pressure & doubt
made long & deep
ago are still being made
still: miles, ages, & feet
above ground.
Turns out:
there are longer, larger
transformations of which
I won't
be here
to speak.
Provision
A little fleet
of seed
makes space
where the day's
chatter cannot
reach
I do not want
much
though it is hard
to remember
in this time of gathering
what's unneeded
or unceded, all
that lays heavy
on the earth,
the ocean, the streams
beg it be taken away
in a sheath
so we can see it
carried
but by whom
and to where
I will take with me
the emptiness of my hands
useful again
my trees are yellowing
like bees who make
what they need
to live and eat
and sweet
is the surplus
for those of us
whose hands are not full
of folly
Keeping Council
This is time on the trail I have not
been or had
behind me, or in front of me,
for that matter.
I'm by the little canal
opened wide
so that farmers
can water
in the high
heat.
I have wanted to write,
It's moving past
its appearing
its disappearing.
I've crossed it
out now
although/so
I cannot
climb that hill
with the little cemetery
and not stop
to see who died
and when
or who was beloved
and who
wasn't.
This is how I live
up here, and others
simply do otherwise.
Or maybe
I do, too — maybe
I strive
to surrender
under the weight
of where I walk
everyday.
Sasha Steensen (she/her) is the author of six books of poetry, most recently Everything Awake (Shearsman Press) and Well (Parlor Press), as well as an ongoing multi-media project entitled Overland: An Incomplete History of Three Acres and All that Surrounds (https://www.sashasteensen.com/overland). She is a Stern Distinguished Professor at Colorado State University where she teaches and serves as a poetry editor for Colorado Review. She lives in Fort Collins, Colorado with her husband, two daughters, and a whole host of animals.
