#AmericanWriters
Every tan rolling meadow will turn… Freeways are clogged all day Academies packed with scholars wri… City people lean and dark This land most real
Down valley a smoke haze Three days heat, after five days r… Pitch glows on the fir-cones Across rocks and meadows Swarms of new flies.
I went into the Maverick Bar In Farmington, New Mexico. And drank double shots of bourbon backed with beer. My long hair was tucked up under a…
“O hell, what do mine eyes with grief behold?” Working with an old Singlejack miner, who can sense The vein and cleavage
At the last turn in the path “goodbye—” —bending, bowing, (moss and a bit of wild
He crawls to the edge of the foami… He backs up the slab ledge He puts a finger in the water He turns to a trapped pool Puts both hands in the water
Out there walking round, looking o… a rootstock, a birdcall, a seed th… plucking, digging, snaring, snaggi… barely getting by, no food out there on dusty slopes…
We finished clearing the last Section of trail by noon, High on the ridge-side Two thousand feet above the creek Reached the pass, went on
Ah to be alive on a mid-September morn fording a stream barefoot, pants rolled up, holding boots, pack on,
I first saw it in the sixties, driving a Volkswagen camper with a fierce gay poet and a lovely but dangerous girl with a h… we came down from Canada
One granite ridge A tree, would be enough Or even a rock, a small creek, A bark shred in a pool. Hill beyond hill, folded and twist…
It comes blundering over the Boulders at night, it stays Frightened outside the Range of my campfire I go to meet it at the
O Wave God who broke through… Sea Bream massive pink and silver cool swimming down with me watchin… staying away from the spear
Owl calls, pollen dust blows Swirl of light strokes writhing knot-tying light paths,
