Ten Ways of Looking at the West
I
I drive the canyons of the West
Deliberately,
The way I drag my finger between
The shoulder blades of the cat.
II
The earth fired this mountain
Before it was the West, before
Weber or Madison or Curtis
before Morrison or Mancos,
Dakota or Jurrasic.
III
Flaming Gorge ,
One gigantic rock
Sliced red on the diagonal,
Stacked from floor to
The heaven of the West.
IV
Was it in the West that I loved you?
Pre-Cambrian? Or before that?
Tonight I sleep at the edge of your canyon.
I listen to your starry wind.
V
Golden light of autumn
Wide, scattered rolls of hay
Shades of lavender and horses,
The sky and fences of the West.
VI
In the face of the wide open
Thighs of the West,
I am shy.
VII
I see the snow-capped sea monster
In the bony Western spine
Of a mountain range risen and resting.
VIII
Sweetwater.
Deer Lodge.
Steamboat Springs.
My tongue plays
The words of the West.
IX
All afternoon the crows
Are calling, racing around
The treetops of the West.
X
Bring the Western sky inside you
Peace is blue.
