After the credits
and the diminishing
wavelets
of applause
silence remains The Only
honest tribute but
it is still
silence.
At the lookout’s edge
where breathing
is clenched, as much
by The View
as The Need
to rest
Never get
use to breathing.
Can’t forget.
Listen
you’ve gotta
live at altitude
if you’re gonna
fuck with mountains
And mountains,
They’re not the half of it.
Extreme
in every direction
Just
say no to vertigo
No way
to go but West
word back
from the front-
tier
Shed none!
await
The Watershed
The Stranger
resting
at the well
will be welcomed
even revered.
Irreverance!
Elevated
beyond the pull
of gravity
we’re talking
High Art
not native
in these parts
though ancient
Trojan even, in stealth
evangelic
unsheathed
(even angelic?)
possessed
of the word (lowercase)
and true to
the utter
Ring of it.
Inhale
the red clay
sunset
with moonrise
at the same time
hanging
plump
over Rough Rock
Round Rock
Taste silica
Mount Saint Helens’ trace
dusting
The Trail.
Move and rest.
catch breath
as I can
The world
left
in your wake
is vast
and silent
awaiting word.