We're just ******* in the
mountains, like a couple of
mountains wolves biting into each others
flesh and having the greatest
meal           of all time.            4,000 feet above the
sea-level is where we like to       ****     the     most,
because the breeze cools our sweat
and only the birds can hear our
                                             howls.

homage to Wallace Stevens

I - My Focus pistoned up the rise
      and all at once, the Rockies -
            silhouettes against the western skies.

II - On the road to Boulder
      a pleated ridge crawls north
            like a blue whale bound for the open sea.

III -  Appalachia's intoxicating verdure
      never fails to induce in us
            a certain mellowing of the spirit.

IV - You 'conquered' my North Face, did you?
      Why, I should skewer your arrogant ***
            like a holiday lamb culled for the sacrifice.

V - Lewis and Clark looked west
      surveying the Bitterroots' frigid expanse.
            Farewell Northwest Passage!  

VI - Pueblos stranded on Enchanted Mesa -
      their rock stairs crumbled to the valley floor.
            Should they dive to their death or starve?

VII –Touristas at Big Bend Park
      wonder at its pastel window -
            its romantic haze a toxic gift
      from stacks across the Rio Grande.

VIII – The once mighty Ozarks humbled by age,          
      dwarfed by the youthful Rockies.
            Listen up, youngsters, your time will come!

IX – We de-bussed to seize the dolomites
      with our hyper-kinetic shutters.
            Pausing for a draught of Italian air,
      I felt the whack of an Alpine snowball.

X - Before Oregon's crater had its lake,
      the mountain scorched the village below.
            Today its azure waters preach only serenity.

XI – Looking down from Shissler peak
      to the golden meadow below
            where the elk herd calmly grazes.

XII – Do mists veil the Blue Ridge Mountains
      or are there really no mountains at all -
            only clouds decked out in mountain attire?

XIII – They say that peaks more steep than Everest
      soar up from the ocean floor.
            Who will scale their sunken heights?

May 28,  2010 – Boulder Colorado

I wish we lived in a place
where the sun never went under the horizon
because you said you’d leave at dark
and I don’t think my eyes can adjust
I wish we lived atop a mountain
because when I told you to take a hike
I didn’t really mean it
I don’t want you to leave
I wish we lived in a tree house,
because when i told you that you were childish
it was more out of jealousy than disbelief
I wanted to be childish with you
I wish we lived in a castle
because you are always on your high horse,
not meaning that in anyway
other than you’re the one that lifts me up
I wish we lived anywhere other than here,
because here isn’t here anymore,
without you.

In dark or day, with rain or burning sun,

nothing holds as pure as a mountain’s air.

When all is quiet and the day is done,

I feel so much guilt for the weight she bares.


Among me are thousands of other guests,

Her rocky flesh, we will surely consume.

Myself, the trees and the animals- pests,

worsening winter’s night till summer’s noon.


She pushes me closer to her clifftops

I peer over the edge, fearful, yet numbed.

not fearing the pain, not fearing the drop,

but fear of destiny- to which i will succumb.


For my bones will become fertilizer,

to the ever-selfless, fertile mother.

I don’t know if I believe that
We are all made of stardust or
Swirling galaxies of energy
I know that my skin isn’t
As thick as I’d like it to be
And the freckles on my body
Don’t make constellations
Unless you know how to
Connect the dots

I know that mountains and snow
Will always feel like home
No matter where I am
And I know that home
isn’t always in the same
Place twice

Sometimes you feel home
In waves, that make your heart
Feel lighter and heavier
At the same time
Sometimes it’s a moment in time
That you could spend your life
Trying to define

Home is a dream, a photograph,
a stretch of highway,
An acre of forest that you’ve
Never thought to explore
It’s somewhere you know well
And sometimes somewhere
You’ve never been before.

You are the oppurtunities you need.
You are the miracles you seek.
You are the stars you're trying to reach.
You are the proclamations you speak.

You are the treassure you're trying to find.
You are the mountains to climb.
You are whatever you decide.
Because God resides in you

as the plane came in to land
i believed i was descending into the very gates of hell
the mountains circling the area jutting like a devil's jaw
waiting to swallow us whole

ripping holes in the sky
clouds bleeding an unnatural red as the sun set.

in the hotel i turn off the light
and lie in the humid darkness
listening to the storm raging outside

the devils are hungry now
their stomachs yelling angrily
their eyes flashing bright across the blackness
as they hunt for their prey

and the sky cries heavy rains of grief
for its wounded victims.

She wore mountains round her neck

           (“No, lower.”)

Peaked with scented minarets

           (Softer and sweeter than strawberries,
           grander than a psalm.)

In the gulch between words
I offered you a prayer
and you wounded me with a poem.

I watched you  move
like a summer night
to disrobe the cover
of your collected works
           -a landscape of fire and blood
            that beats a wardrum
            deep in my hungry river.

Your petals pressed against my lips
           to drown , to drown
                      gladly.

She wore mountains round her neck,
and I wore her ankles with a smile.

I suppose this is what it has become
At a crossroads, stretching to eternity
I went left, you went right
Bound for the mountains, bound for the sea
Yet I keep glancing
Over my shoulder
To the sunset in the east
Hoping to see your silhouette
Maybe looking back at me.

Encounters with others form the path,
Trail markers along my way,
As I climb ever forwards towards
Such a brand new uncertainty.
This unknown I never knew
Now presents itself clearly,
Yet somehow I’m not ready to approach it.

And so I’ll take my time,
Ambling slowly toward the ridges.
Perhaps when I get there I’ll feel you.
See you from above,
See you come running back,
Or at least see you happy-
Running to the sea.