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