Friday, July 24, 2009

A Poem for Willa Cather, Anasazi, and Reality

Apparently in Mesa Verde

It was Mesa Verde; I was leading Willa
Cather’s expedition down the path to Cliff House.
Fiction has this way of sticking to my mind,
competing with the story I’ve created there
already. This time though I knew I went too far.
I told them categorically I was Anasazi!
Welcome to my kiva. Suddenly all sorts
of characters and plots were disappearing. Patterns
changed their set vibrations. All became as one
and I was left for dead among the waves of sandstone
intertwined with particles of pinon pine.
And that’s where this reality has drawn the line.

~Son Rivers 2009

1 comment:

  1. I like this...keep it up oh mystic poet. B