I may die here.
Here
where mountains
canyons, deserts
fuse to sky more blue
than sea.
Winds blow in yellow-browns
sandy metal grays
blues
in sounds like the tintinnabulation of a piano
a thousand-miles above.
Blue
blue.
Blue
which metabolism
perspiration
steadily dries
to steps
smaller than an infant’s.
No compass
encompasses this infolding
of eastwestnorthsouth.
I will die here.
Stalled here
turning mountains
canyons, deserts
through dust tears.
Mountains, canyons
deserts
fused with blue.
Blue….
is it wrong to say
beautiful blue?
Kj5dec09
