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ISSUE:  Winter 1982
It flies through sand and shale under the ground
Among stones, through stone,
Through quartz and gold, down granite, through black rivers
(Its underworldly wind),
Through bones and shells dust-bedded in dry seas,
Through crystal, through clay
And pumice, under the spurs of mountains, through frozen
Muskeg and tundra, its claws
Obsidian-sharp, slant-winged, its feathers glinting,
Its beak piercing
All lost weathers under the faces of earth,
Its cries almost silent
Like pebbles scattering, now rising, whispering
Through the hanging gardens
Of roots where earthbird perches and stares upward
At the land suspended
Over its head like clouds, at our fires burning
Down through its night
More dimly than moons and stars, where it knows them,
Where it waits for our return.


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