Moonstone on Labrdorite 8 April 2014

NaPoWriMo PROMPT:   (optional, as always!) prompt. Today, let’s rewrite a famous poem, giving it our own spin. While any famous poem will do, if you haven’t already got one in mind, why not try your own version of Cesar Vallejo’s Black Stone Lying on a White Stone? If you’re not exactly sure how such a poem could be “re-written,” check out this recent poem by Stephen Burt, which riffs on Vallejo’s.



Moonstone on Labradorite

   After Cesar Vallejo’s “Black Stone Lying on A White Stone”


   I will die in a down comforted bed, of course on a rainy day,

On a day I’ve remembered since birth, a day on earth

Where robins bounce in rusty orange vests

And the cat will purr me asleep on that day,

Tuesday or Saturday, by then it won’t matter.


I will hold amber in one hand, azeztulite in the other,

And I will remember my replaced joints and reconstructed

Parts that will only last so long and even today I notice

The resistance to movement as I walk the road, not

Alone for the dogs pause here and there, all

The company I need.


C.J. Prince is dead.  Will anyone still be alive

Who would notice or care;  she keeps making friends

But the less she moves, the more distant they become.

Who will scatter her ashes to the four directions

And honor the goddess?


There need be no witness for the days of the week,

The tumbling of months and years and decades twine

Within the bones of my body, the place of memory

Swirling now beyond the earth into the solitude

Of the milky way where I walked before

On a rainy day.


C.J. Prince