Out of the sun dried mud

A river once fluid, now punching out the mud,
A sluggy pulse; a knotweed bloated,
Bedded on that gray mud compost heap,
Pig cloud slowly, grunting a storm—
Flickering lightning to a shape.
Sloppy with rain, douses the bowel-pulse
Of a river head that pumps to a sea;

In a mile, in a heat, mud stubborn, sunk in
A clog, mire-smirched in a hoghood muddle;
Bog bottom suckling with a mouth slot—
Dolt ripe for a digesting,
These, these obstacles.
Yet, the water spawn is fertile, pours into
A muck funnel leashed to a salt wave,

Leaps inexorably, flies to a brine,
Thickens in a sea basin, cleaves to a shore;
Far from the dried mud stench—
Taut fiber from the onslaught of the sun,
Now free from the common clay;
It is the sea you hear in it.
Listen, it flows impetuously till the mud is stone.

Copyright © 09/29/18 lance sheridan®

Out of the mud


13 comments on “Out of the sun dried mud

  1. tara caribou says:

    Oh my goodness. Lance. This is incredible work. I read it and read it and read it again. I absolutely love your choice of wording. The pig cloud. Damn. I wish I could think of amazing poems like this. I’m absolutely blown away.

  2. Barbara Kasey Smith says:

    Lance, as you already know, I’ve watched you grow as a poet & I must confess, you’ve become such an image builder and in a way to cause the mind to explore the imaginations it conjures up – know I love your craft! Barb;)

  3. Tara, very much appreciated. Thank you!

  4. You are such a close observer of nature, Lance. Even the landlocked can see the rising tide through your eyes, and smell the ocean.

  5. It’s like you don’t leave any stone unturned Lance. I loved all the descriptive details. Sloppy with rain! sloppy,,, genius!

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