underland
I’m not ready to be
underground
unprepared to enter
the underworld
my brief visits so far
have been uncomfortable
shot through with wonders, yes,
but also the oppressive feel
of too little air
and too much rock
too much thick impenetrable dark
in Ireland we descended below dolmans
in the white-grey lime of the Burren
walked a muddy path
to an echoing room
with frozen rock icicles
amazing – yes
magical – no
it had the cold feel
of forbidden
back in the day
when bat noses were black
we found our way into
each of Boulder’s caves:
Harmon, Mallory, Boy Scout, Davy Crockett, Cavernous Sinus
(some now gated with metal grilles –
one more pleasure our sons will never know,
but a worthy concession to the bats)
(also somewhere up Clear Creek Canyon)
small rooms with graffiti
and the soot of illicit fires
spaces more likely to hide transients than the wild
they still gave cool shade, otherworldly echo,
the sense of adventurous exploring
then Caribou Mine
Tom Hendricks’s baby
open to the public now and then
the real deal, silver and gold still pulled out
of veins that once fed
the ghost town by the same name
we used to see him in Nederland
pale blue overalls and no shirt
hair cut by his own hand
he dominated the hand drilling contest
at Miners’ Days
a place industry and fantasy merged
jackhammers slowly turned the mountain to dust
it was all business
later Lenin’s tomb
red letters on black background
silent young men with Kalashnikovs
at each crowded landing
I gulped in fear
whenever it was
my turn to sink lower
at Carlsbad Caverns, finally overwhelming awe
we walked through wonders all day
even came back for more
I kept saying It’s just like Journey to the Center of the Earth!
(later I learned why –
some scenes were filmed there)
still the smell of the entrance swallows
made us hold our breath
and question our choices
next the Bat Cave (Gua Kampret)
black cool in the Sumatran swelter
sometimes green jewels broke open
across its uneven roof
reminding us where we were right then
unseen poisonous creatures
around every dark bend
lastly, most spectacularly,
the glowworm grotto
blue dangling orbs
laying fanciful traps
wherever our barque drifted
Te Anau fairy tales sparkled
we can always come home here
still, I’m not ready
to lie quiet
in some shallow rectangle now
with no view of sky sun stars
I need more time
more air
more earth
more days
