The stonecutter upon first seeing the mountain
weeps for the granite perfection of it,
block on block on block.
Raw piles of cathedrals
He feels his skull opening and shifting.
Taking in the sight of the whole range, great
upthrust vertebral chunks,
he knows he’s just seen the gently curled spine
of his sleeping god.
After 30 or so years living in the hot, humid Houston wetlands, Jeff has recently located to the hot, humid wetlands of central Georgia. Wait, what? I'm sure he had a very good reason. Jeff's poetry has appeared in several online and print journals. You can find him in Potpourri, Strange Horizons, The Houston Literary Review, Everyday Weirdness, Illumen and Every Day Poets. He is read and loved by literally a dozen or so fans.