©2007 - Authors retain all copyrights.
Oh, desert varnish,
you desert tarnish.
Oh, black suspected residue of water
striking down,
Zion’s Navajo red sandstone stage stands
ineffably
Against the algae green Babylonian spots of
mineral time
Reciting dramatic face lifts
of dark volcanic stars
Whispering windshield wiper streaks
of evolved mechanical wind rhymes
Narrating chiming wrinkle cliff tales
of eternal transforming scenery
Beating to the sedimentary beat
of visible sustainable sand carvings
Broadcasting electronic engine manuals
of plateau weather bearings
Gravitating along the forces of eroding city building rocks.
What mountain man would subdue
these majestic valley walls?
Knocking ’em down
in ego’s luxury retreat?
Smashing out the windows of diverse geological freedom?
Tell me, who would even dare?
Such nonsense, dipstick. . .