Until It Weeps With Light
Friday, September 12th, 2008Fallen morning -
the sun bleeds across the blistered ground
wraps the strip in its shimmering shawl
as if it might burn the whole idea away
like it never was.
Snowcapped, the mountains loom indifferent
but you know they can take it back –
take everything back
with a snowless drought that would crack
the ground like glass.
Blue buildings like stones in translucent rivers -
red roads reflecting in the polished granite
like an idea, like a dream somehow gone bad
in the smoke, lingering like a white fog
over the false hope burning.
It rains and the ground shines -
the cooled air returns as breath against the glass
when the night screams back
and all you can hear is the noise
until the mountains whisper in spectral light.
Another morning falls – the sky silvered
and the ground embraced by the
shadows of the great Sierras and the blue glass
and the red roads pale as the desert sun
leans across the ground until it weeps with light.
