What Feet Know
The earth and its subterfuge.
Gravity and the points between here and there.
And sometimes the rasp of grainy mud
clenched between toes,
or a rock under the arch,
an explanation too pointed
for display on a page,
too hard, too much for flesh to bear.
No constellations foment underground.
Nothing there orbits a companion.
No light but for that darkness the heel scrapes away.
“What Feet Know” was featured on Postcard Poems and Prose Magazine in December 2016, and is included in my chapbook, From Every Moment a Second, available Available at Amazon.Com and Here.
O at the Edges 
Love it. Reminded me of these lines from Richard Wilbur:
Obscurely yet most surely called to praise,
As sometimes summer calls us all, I said
The hills are heavens full of branching ways
Where star-nosed moles fly overhead the dead;
I said the trees are mines in air, I said
See how the sparrow burrows in the sky!
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Ooh, I need to reread Wilbur. It’s been years. Thanks for the spark.
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Fascinating and wonderfully quirky, yet so very real. [Walked in stocking feet across my drive way]. Ouch.
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Thanks very much!
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Great.
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Thank you!
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