from riding...from the raven...from the air, smoke and clouds.
I feel you. I must find you. though she tells me to beware, I don't care.
But it wasn't me you were looking for, it wasn't me nor will it ever be,
I said to the eye as I lay on the floor. your amethyst quetzal eyes.
you're looking for a man, a long feathered man, and you're delicately watching
as you were Set to do,
But the man you're looking for -
he's behind you.
The hawk that flew high above the waterfall carries a match in the edge of its jaw
fly to the smokestack of the factory where planes are built for war
to the furnace on the airport's 21st floor
fly with your amethyst eye
over wheatflields, cold and grey
oh child my child your smoke I see rising
you'll make it to the airforce base one day.
THE WEST
oh how it is to be a prairie-dog in the land of coyotes.
now out here, the coyote guides those who follow in the path of the prairie-dog.
back and forth through the evergreen desert and the volcanic hills.
and I could do this for ever, I don't really want to leave...
but it is not for a lack of living responsively, to live "keeping up with the coyote."
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