the rivers meet where sentences slide.
I’d bet my life, lie on a river-bed.
the slim young man in dungarees will slip
into position when the sun has gone
into overdrive. the sons and daughters
of my generation will prepare
for the end-game. some might linger
for years. others will fall into sleep
and not return. in Grand Junction
I take my chances.
fight the killer birds who perch
on your spark plugs. is it
a God makes mercy work or common
decency? from Junction we visit
the canyons to witness the geologic
truth. a fat man who makes
a big deal of selling cups of iced tea. when
I say “fat” I mean easily 350 pounds. his body
jiggles. “Dive right in” he tells me. “Cool,” I
say and return to the van.
some of the rock formations are one
billion years old you may wish to purchase
and be the proud owner. we’re digging a new well
and making preparations in case the mammoth returns.
over the far hills. you ask what it means, oh
what does anyone know? they will build here
their fortresses of steel and glass. one of the boys
Dies of boredom and two trade in obsidian.