Driving high desert in the dark
stars like grains of sand
snowy ranges like snow goose wings
I pulled over in a dream and bought a soda from ghosts at an abandoned hamburger stand,
but at first light there was nothing in the cup, in my mouth, but dust
Spare green brush in the heat
unbroken to the mountain rim
new dust on the dash
all windows down and radio and ac dead, shouting every song I remember into the teeth of
the wind
Old cottonwoods at evening
between their cast down shoulders
secret in the long grass
a sky mirror
cold gravel welling
we drink on our bellies, the dog and I and
everything's moving
Clouds like poems gather on peaks
expand and disappear
cottonwood leaves reshuffle
junipers are breathing
and the flies above us
are doing the best they can