THE EARTH'S HUM
I.
JOURNEY THROUGH THE SOUTHWEST
Indigo
sky, morning sand painting.
Valley
of coral, mesquite.
Breath
of aromatic herbs, chokecherry juice.
Thin
rivers strapped around buttes, like belts;
Caves
of scaled creatures, dry on their ledges.
Stucco,
mud, dry desert sand,
Windstorms,
dust of faces on Second Mesa;
Passage
through elm forests ravaged by beetles.
Rural
winters, cold minds sunk in tin plates,
Lost
miners seeking their crevice of gold.
Mirage
of heat;
Mirage
of blue lakes among pine;
Of
frozen creeks covered by snow;
Of
stale ghost towns depressed by the howl
Of
wind and wolves;
Mirage
of light!
Hear
the earth's hum!
"The
world is like the vapor..."
II.
THE DEPARTURE
Without
the soul his body heat flees into air.
The
earth has a hum he cannot hear, a voice of clay.
His
last murmurs are fragments of prayers
Loose
on his lips.
The
sing will last several nights.
--
C. S. Cholas
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