By Lauren Camp
It is said the man built a spiral in salt and in six days.
He wore hip-waders. Waiting.
Ordered rocks. Made it to hold the soul
of the water. A backhoe scooped and anchored.
Beneath the crown of sea, hoe on hoe
had piled to a pattern of metal.
Archimedes made a spiral to place a curve.
A curve can run from a fixed point to a length.
The artist rebuilt his spiral. Wider,
built it to circle backwards, from empty
to the ambit of cosmos. To place
what wasn’t there. The backhoe carried basalt,
placed it in salt. The salt was pink. The flats, green.
The salt was white, like nothing. For a while, rocks
were buried in bubbles of salt. The man in black waders.
The mathematician imagined a spiral that threw
constant speed, constant velocity.
The artist made a spiral to match the horizon.
The lake is shallow and without outlet. Ice age lake
watched, unwatched. Within the spiral, you cannot find it.
It is said the lake is nearly one-third salt.
The salt makes a crust. The rock is black. The spiral
is always a spiral. You are there and not
at the same time. And you are carrying
a question. Maybe all your questions. To walk it
is to accompany dreams. You walk to a sound
that is neither a hum nor a squeal, but time shifting
its angles. Sand seeding. Later, the colors
will be earth, pink, green. It is said that absence
will come forward. You will need to see
from above. You will not see.
Published in Worn Smooth between Devourings (NYQ Books, 2023)
The Importance of Arts, Culture & The Creative Process
The arts and humanities are how I have made sense of my life experiences and widened my world view. For years now, I have taught others how to hear, trust, and nurture their creative spirit. As Poet Laureate of New Mexico, I have focused on initiatives and activities for rural and arts-underserved areas that encourage individuals to express themselves in poetry. It has been deeply meaningful to me to find people who are creating—in secret or for their own expression—in every county of the state.
Tell us something about the natural world that you love and don’t wish to lose. What are your thoughts on the kind of world we are leaving for the next generation?
There are so many things about the natural world that I treasure, but ever since I spent a month at Grand Canyon National Park as Astronomer-in-Residence, I've become more aware of the effects of light pollution on our night skies. It’s not that difficult for individuals, business entities and cities to implement choices that keep the light we need to see and feel safe without impacting our ability to experience further out into the cosmos—and further back in time.
