In the deep of time indigenous tribes surfaced a red earth with protruding plateaus and burnt canyons along the Cimarron River. The ancient Anasazi settled at the core of this mesa. Scattered ponderosa pine. Yet, their sudden demise echoed curiosity.
Navajo sensed a struggle of two infinite worlds, a quivering inundation. Circling its haunted ominous shape, a skull with one eye, the apparition of light rose into a blue desert sky.
Violent storms crackle hot lightning strikes in a sulfurous summer- an oracular hothouse. Navajo talk of spirits or the gateway to fire. Heaps of iron and lodestone lodged in the cap. Only two brazen, cat totem poles guarding its passage.
Standing among the mesa to feel the verve of the earth. A New Mexico sun beats down burning the drowsed terrain. To see the legendary shaman glow in his ephemeral blue nimbus. Bathed in gaudy turquoise.
Sensing the dark encroachment of a ghost. Near the bony hills, soared a turbulent black bird in full flight, upward.
A ghost poem assignment for workshop class. Critiques?