Monday, November 2, 2015

Aspens and Orange at Navajo Lake

Repetitions reassert
The atmosphere of wonder.
Humbaba's forests regroup
And regather, in tatters,

True, but not in surrender.
This lake was, after all, trapped
By all-consuming lava
Long after Gilgamesh ruled,

And even now the basalt
Boulders are ink, almost bare,
Except for the strange aspens,
Small gold pennants fluttering,

Colonizing black-bricked rocks.
But forest birds bring songs back,
And human hunters clamber,
Blazing orange everywhere,

Following their horned monsters,
Lust, bellow, rut, and batter.
The names are all wrong, altered,
But the game's beyond words' range.

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