The Blorenge: A Mountain in Wales by Cory Collins

Narrow-nosed with several musics:
climbing blues in choirstalls of grass,
faded grey spooling like soda,
and green-grey toggles shifting,
nearly spurning sky.
Our triangles are plant-mesh
made ancient from non-walkers,
people who wind around foothills
for no reason, for no construct
of pathway charts.
But our echo-field is massive:
soapstone shoulders, cupping
tin-taps and river gurgles,
then sending them to air;
starry crosses of dirt
pouring cricket-song in wind;
an everywhere of tableland,
singing for its own blue-green
fjords, darkly and in heat.

Our monuments are trailed
and spelled, our harbours
carved and named.
Where then is the wanderer?
We huddle, wait, and nearly melt,
dyed like salt in hen’s blood,
hungering for lives to see,
for descriptions of the feldspar,
for travellers on wheels.
Wanderer, where are you?

 

About the Author:
Cory Collins is an artist, writer and behavior therapist. His work has appeared in the Island Review, Cordite Poetry Review, Written River, Off the Coast, and Lemon Hound. His poetry has won two Newfoundland and Labrador Arts and Letters Awards and was specially commended in the Welsh Poetry Competition. He lives in St. John’s, Canada.