The Raree Show
through locust branches passes lightlike perennial streams when air runs clear
rock cairns guide us where
no cartographer dare ply his trade
as the fen of Grendel lay
the earth-hollow topped by time-scorched leaves
each dying grass and reed believes
in rain; merely God is slow
i am carried into a raree show;
images flash into epileptic night
If we lie on our backs in the grass, a clear sky
Makes stars appear close as a firefly.
No night's heaven is so dear as the desert sky,
As black as an abyss, virginal of city light.
A single car's headlights may be followed for miles
Before and after its passing.
Even the stars cast shadow on the Sonoran plain,
And outcroppings, arroyos and lizards become goblins.
If we lie on our backs in the grass, with red-label bourbon
Stars lose their edge, not so close, but more wide.
