We’re at the large red pyramid
slabs of Canal Rocks.

The water made all the more blue
by their redness; their redness made all the moreso
by the calm blue of the harboury bay.

The water rushes in between the rocks, 
under the bridge.

I roll the word over in my mind
and mouth.
“Rocks.”
I make a space for the depths of the 
rocks in front of me,
and the depth of the word 
within me.
“Rocks.”

And soon they begin to grow
around me,
within me.
A whole new rock-filled ground to stand on,
immaterial, though sure none-the-less.

“Rocks.”

The heart of the Earth 
reaching down
and rising up to meet…

Rocks.