Four Days
for DS
And three nights driving half way across the
Country. Keep moving, don’t stop—western sun—
Always forward. Texas, New Mexico,
Red soils, arroyos, mesas, rust colored
Soil—Albuquerque, some “No Vacancy”
Hotel, Arizona, this restless heart
Without cease. The Earth now some other place,
Made different by night, day, night and day,
Night and day, day—how far still left to go.
San Fidel Sagebrush to the horizon,
This hot October afternoon. Flagstaff’s
Mount Elden, naked under sun. Winds rush
Almost into speech, whispers of winter
Soon to come—driving headlong, the motion
Set months, years before, but only now lay
Clear the roads through the night and Navajo
Lands. Coyotes headlights ghost. In the vast
Moonless dark, constellations shift, touch, move
Away in silent desert sky. Near Lake
Powell, low in the east, crescent light, a
Single star within her absent heart, then
A misty red glare. No map, just moving
North, without concern—or car insurance.
Mountains covered in fall, hum incessant—
The signs of distress, demise, Idaho
Fields of dust. Details fade—trucks, roads, talking
Out loud—in the car, alone. Oregon hole
In the wall diner, biscuits and gravy,
Sunshine through hazy gray cigarette smoke.
A beautiful dead butterfly—Baker
Valley. Hood River, ninety miles an hour.
The Gorge’s full moon—foggy blue eve, gazing
East from Rooster Rock—climbs dark winter sky,
Out from the river, grasps for ascension.
Almost home, this land, this place—before I
Came back, before I left, facing away.