a white shirt........................Outside of Cortez, the road begins to climb into the mountains.
soft fur...........................That moment when the desert gives way to the mountains
warm milk.........................(where silicon magicians shed their identities like snake skins
the sound of water.........as the air turns thin and cold
brown grass on the hills.......on Lizards Head Pass)
cold water......................remains in memory
blood stains...................like the road that follows the creek
had he been there all along?........from Boulder to Nederland
sleep...............................or the road through the dogwood and pines
the smell of green grass....that leads to the Stanislous river.
where the water .........................Six miles on the road,
warm sun.....and then suddenly the river is roaring clear and green through the canyon.
they always fled.................... making things.................... blue shirt....................... the cabin where we were working............. still resided in my memory........ never know why............... on the meadow above the creek ................. footprints.......................... unwashed windows........... a dark corner.................... the pine trees overhead...... walking............................. riding................................ the horizon........................

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