As the prairie grass that swims across the wind,
I cannot sleep, I cannot laugh, my mind
Hard and pale like the clay under my feet.
If I could sleep, I would laugh;
If I could laugh, I would sleep.
In this detritus of ancient glaciers,
One could find mastodon ivory and Cree arrow heads;
If only I could find such a talisman,
A laughing, charming dream.
Mastodon, flint, please be generous and still:
Open up, (as the wise man said), to quiet
Wind, grass, beast, man.
Would that I, like you, could rest in clay
Waiting for the potter's wheel to turn.