for Peter Gizzi
crush tamarind and the brown thirst of Quivira
the hollow sound of the silence of travail
the tipp iron toe of aventura coronado . x
-plore for the first time like in imagen childhood
the time of the world of the mesa. but this one is "real"
the opponents are vivid & feather’d & red
not one of these is yr father
here the world that we thought of as round
after all becomes arid & flat in its trail
full of deep stony echoes & the steep sound
of phonemes
as if God is a well where there is no
language of water. no meaning
of silver of mineral flood that we know
in our langurous rivers
. but here is only the archer wind
. is this why we are hearin feathers?
. the future sits across from us squat & vivid on a burn
-ing horse. not a cross. w/its arrows
there are no orchards here. no wine
no other kind of time for these sorrows