(TXT) View source # 2017-02-11 - 6000 ft. by Jessica Smith (IMG) Waldo lake I have come here to find the quiet like stacked tiles that clings to mountaintops and grows in fields There is a taste of nothing, the calming blankness of water, a cold fire hanging from my ribs The way small voices pike, marmot, columbine speak below our hearing and blend into a song, their descant a pool floating above my head The ripples are all I recognize tags: poem # Tags (DIR) poem