cross legged on a dry headland
incendiary thoughts prevail
what was has passed
what will come is a wind's breath
on range grasses
late afternoon sun tightens my face
I can "feel" the color deep in my soul
and behind my closed eyes
all I see is red and gold
a burning blue
a flashing white
a scorching of ideas
ashes of the letting go
much that remains of me was born here
- walking on this mesa
past The Blinking Light
there was "nothing" but Spirit til Tres Piedras
this Land still knows my name
this Spirit still calls me home
oh Taos
what you have done for me!
my Father brought me here, 1966
the Mountain, the Gorge
they take it all
they lay out the bones
they prescribe the purge
then Sun fuses to the task
and floods this valley tier
then Acquittal gently closes a dark door
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