Issue 9, Summer 1955
The scree in the crevasse
thaws an impasse
for all but what descends
crumbling toward other ends
through deep long valleys where the hidden lake
receives the icy rocks. And for whose sake?
all this is reason for their having come.
I sought the waterfalls
for ouzel calls,
to spy that bird pursue
its rivered avenue
and spin through falling spray to the upper cliff,
singing its way to the source. You ask, what if
everything as I wished upon that ground?