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By chris Date: 2007 May 08 Comment on this Work [[2007.05.08.00.15.7795]] |
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how we were driving out of the pine forest - not all at once but in gradations as though waking from sleep - when the Plains of San Agustin appeared, spread like a dream but solid like dust from distant stars given form on earth. Our faces still red from the fire and sand of the south, we said nothing there in the dry, cold spaces imperceptibly opening themselves to spring seven-thousand feet above a sea distant enough to be just a rumor. I save all of that - maybe for next week, maybe for the moments before the alarm goes off some frozen Monday morning next December. (I reserve the right to remember.) |