all around
tree twigs
are breaking —
gray sticks split
in copse
and furrow,
random twigs.
boulders
guide us
through this desert…
glide between them,
happy to obey.
once, lip to lip,
i talked beyond
believable —
lands of mound
and dune: red
desert sands.
so many white-splashed
wishes
cross these river boulders —
twigs and stickers
wedge between
the granite breaks,
accumulate
into each rock,
his
red-root [dik].
8.12.03
poetryandpoet 