Well, since being here, many good encounters,
and there's been for me like a blanking out from the events
of the world away from here.
But I caught a glimpse of a paper this morning.
This sort of spoiled my fun.
And I know there's probably another one out there lurking.
And I want to read something that sort of connects.
All over the country various things are happening,
feelings people have about current events.
Most of us don't know what to do.
This is called "Watching the Jet Planes Dive."
We must go back and find a trail on the ground
back at the forest and mountain on the slow land.
We must begin to circle on the intricate side.
By such wild beginnings without help
we may find the small trail on through the buffalo bean vines.
We must go back with noses and the palms of our hands
and climb over the map and fireplaces
everywhere and lie down whenever there's doubt and sleep there.
If roads are unconnected, we must make a path
no matter how far it is or how lowly we arrive.
We must find something forgotten by every one alive
and make some fabulous gesture when the sun goes down
as they do by custom in little Mexico towns
where they crawl for some ritual up a rocky steep.
The jet planes dive.
We must travel on our knees.