Written as part of a DWP "Ice Breaker"

I am from pine trees, elevation and
the relief of circular earth;
Ribbons of concentric colors, the red racetrack
That freezes and turns into black shale
and silver-studded mica

My parents let the lilacs grow wild
at the house where they left me.
I suppose I am from those, too.

I am from three generations of English and German teaches,
immigrants caught in a slowing spiral who
clung to books and unredeemed, unwarranted pride.
I am from the creaking floorboards,
the way the wind would rock the the care
where sometimes I slept in Hot Springs, Rapid City, Spearfish.

I am from there, and too
The summer nights beside a streamfed lake
And of leaving for college
to have the same address for ten month
I am from the overabundance
of impermanence
The product of nothing
except a search for place.