Look at the rock cut
to carve the highway
and see the history
of its making —
molten rivers molded
appearing frozen
while working out
their next dissolution,
replenishing plenitude
apparent only
as it’s lavished
lava-like.

What about the earth
that even solid rock
is not, but all in transit,
crazy tracks visible
in marble bands
rumpled like bed sheets —
so full it must brim,
reach, spill, get lost,
carried in capillary
action, in endless
emptying and
resurrection?