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?