I go to the canyon’s edge

and face

the serrated blue horizon.

I feed among these hidden springs

in the oases clumps strained

by the red striated sandstone

looking to the tortured desert

at my feet

with its abandoned pock-mouthed earth;

looking to the enormous pale heaven


between dawn and dusk

looking to the initial fire

and to myself.

For I have lived with covenants of green

crossed with urban cement

in luxury

in pleasure

in fruiting ambivalence

but now I have turned toward the ultimate prayer:

to create the totality of my loves

into a living bridge

for my progeny to cross.