The one that fits next actually is not
the one I feel like reading at the moment
because it relates more to the long poem that
follows than to the--
well, it just is needed for that reason more
than for its own sake.
But as I say, my poems don't really vary that much
in a central theme.
And a poem I wrote before called "Junction," which is probably
the heaviest poem in the book, fits perfectly here.
"How far into our bodies our hands delve
to follow the course of love.
A buzzard hovering a dark cloud at the red summit
as we come to the curve on the trail, wiping the sweat sun
drew to our brow.
Peak towering ferrous to the jagged eye
with swift strokes of the brush levels
the ravine to an easel it draws us on.
And the rattler head arched as the peak, heat dropping hard
on a 60 mile silence.
What fate the shadow of a thorn casts
over our pounds of flesh planted before the smooth curves
of the serpent?
While the sun passes for in the afternoon,
our leather soles worn to each stone.
On a single fold of the canvas, we
stand reduced to large horseflies.
Delving as toxic venom held in the snake's fangs
freezes our body, the time passing into coiled red peaks
shutting its eyes slits."
We'll just call that one 9/30/70.