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My toe knocks the rock
I stop to talk
to it
I pour my drink
on the ground
my mother drinks with me!
slowly
the rock assumes a shape
see the eyes
mouth
ears
it says something to me
it speaks to me
listen to the rock
remembrances of our hurts
a thousand years old
ooze out of the rock
and it pains!
(October 28, 1965) |
Khasu, Kona. “Unnamed Thing.” The Seeds of Time: A Collection of Poems. Mimeographed typescript. Monrovia, 1971. 16.
| Line | Typescript | Changed to |
| 17 | ozz out of the rock | ooze out of the rock |
