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