Wide emptiness.
Spaceless nothingness.
from millions of years
piled up high.
Mountains loom
but aren’t that steep.
Legs feel tired from hours of sand.
Spots of water in the dunes
crooked cottonwoods
and an owl.
Fire of juniper twigs
above a dry pond.
All opens up
then closes in.

I walked so far
to get right here.
Dry creek bed
The night wind—
“come over”
“come over”
“come over”


A shadow moves
sand plants
blown by wind
making circles
in the sand.
Or was it a hand
that drew them?
A shadow moves
amidst the dunes
Then merges into deep
dune sand.