from the painted desert (but not a buick 6)
color is subtle/vastness/my dreams are the rhythm
of a constant wind...strangers wander and stare/
stare
and wonder...2 ravens have been following
me/they're up
to something/they look at me/look
at each other/time - or what passes these days as
time - elapses...my soul feels quite young amidst
the
ancient stone/the petrified wood/the screaming
feeling of insignificance...ghosts
live here/questions
of forgotten civilizations waft through my mind...those
ravens are staring at me again/then,as i watch,
dissolve
into sand/the sky yawns...i return to my
comings and goings
and keep an eye out for two
black specks circling overhead...
