JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

Mountain peaks see clearly.  Together
we crossed one climbing into a crisp morning.

 

geological collections from eternity, seltzer streams, bird calls
echoing bird calls calling in every chattering language of song.

 

rounding a corner between shoulders of still sleeping rocks
an upside-down waterfall, perfect as when first created

and in the falling of it, salmon, leaping and twisting up and falling,
up and falling, silver as knives, bright as new music

in between the drops leaping and twisting

 

I am still there between the sleeping rocks.  You went on
your pack bouncing into the mist, dazzled into the rising sun

 

to the Himalayas, the Andes, Kilimanjaro
climbing higher to hold the blueness in your hands