To the Desert’s Eye

When 
night set and in spite 
of the wind 
we made camp on a low knoll 
sheltering only leeward of a crop of stone. 
Dry heat lingered 
at the corners of the eyes 
the fibers of vision out of weeks gone 
twined like the gnarl of greasewood. 
The fire lodged 
behind the retina. Like desert’s echo 
in the Masoretic text the broad wind came full circle
the circuit closed all arks 
at once, electric 
trees tapseeking root in stone 
guttating cloud. 

Great birds of light flew out of my mouth 

We’d come forever 
had forever left to go 
sat bolt still with stones 
indrawn breath paused 

collapsed balloonsilk tents 

about to speak.