And there I saw the seed upon the mountain
but it was not a seed it was a star
but it was not a star in was a world
but it was not a world it was a god
but it was not a god it was a laughter
blood red within and lightning for its rind
the root came out like gold and it was anger
the root came out like fire and it was fury
the root came out like horn and it was purpose
but it was not a root it was a hand
—from “Time in the Rock or Prelude to Definition,” Conrad Aiken
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I'm a poet and essayist. I write about poetry, writing, and translation; gender and sexuality; Jewish identity and culture; and the politics of higher education.
