Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Skaha Lake

I stood a man remote
at the edge of the earth,
leaned before the brittle bones
of sage rattling in the hot winds
that lathered the lake below
and flung pelicans
like a chain of paper kites

I thought to lift from that place
and set sail like I do in dreams,
but the earth would not consent
to a mystics whim,
no warrants to suspend
the burden of gravity
for a summer spree

So I dismissed the world
of all its silly conventions
and raised my arms
and followed the tethered wings
over the caps of folding waves
to the bounds of freedom and back

And there at my feet
a long cream snake
moved like the flight of birds
through the bitteroot and prickly pear,
hot blood pooling in my shoe
and I wondered where I had been

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