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Wings Of Death Over Sacred Lands
Steens Mountain Sept -00
Deep in the stratospheres we hear a sound far off-
maybe just the wind.
Basalt and the flow of lava rock crunches beneath our feet
as we take another step forward into the infinite spaces beyond.
Then we stop to examine a few holes dug in the earth
we think probably by coyotes to store their winter food
or nurse their young.
Panoramic views of canyons and desert fade into the blue horizon
and more mountain ranges rise in the far distance to the southwest.
Walking the rim of Kiger Gorge we look down to the end of the canyon
dropping off some 1200 feet below as we explore the glacial shelves
and terraces carved out by the ice age thousands of years ago.
Then comes a thundering kshruaowowow-kshruaouwow, piercing
the serene calm skies and I hit the dirt and cover my ears from
the death rattling roar of the ominous black wings flying low overhead
as they break the silence and solitude of the gentle desert wind.
A few more f-16s pass over shaking the earth where we stand
as they dive into the notch in Kiger Gorge like stunt pilots, aiming for
their target, invading the flight path for eagles hawks and ravens
and places where antelope and mule deer graze and jackrabbits run.
Where did they come from and why
but to show off their military presence where they do not belong
leaving us shaking and trembling still like an earth tremor
long after they are gone.
* * * *
Mid Life
Very little work now
same old faces in the coffeeshop
another beautiful young woman gives me
a reason to live
A warm breeze blows outside
people in a hurry spend money
idle time on my hands ticks
like a death warrant
I haven't been out of town in months
it seems and haven't been laid in years
I can't see as well as I used to
and I'm losing my hair
I walk off the edge of this world
my left foot in the old, the right foot in the new
with a deep long shadow stretching out
between the two
* * * *
On Amtrak to Seattle, Sept 01, 00
Picking up the fragments of the morning's events
a glimpse of another freeway and a long deep ditch
life can be a okay and sometimes it can be a bitch.
I close these blood red eyes and try to shut down
this tired mind run amuck on the tracks
going north.
Nothing seems to make sense
empires of steel and concrete
another overpass.
This world of machines and madness cannot last-
fields under water, forests on fire
the struggle goes on.
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(c) T.W. Avery 2000
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