in
the body of christ
with
the blood of christ
sangre
de christo
the
sand suspending deep into his beard
the
southwesterly mexico winds
covering
his thick black-rimmed
columbia
university eyeglasses
the
riverbed running and reaching up to save him
from
the virus
from
the cruelty
from
the silence
only
the original people
know
these mountains
don't
be embarrassed
if
you need a guide
the
snows have lost their staying power
every
crevice takes on a new identity
there
are dark sanctuaries
to
sing your poems
there
are new muses lost and searching
even
the word muse may escape
through
the void
this
is not the lower east side
or
golden gate park
to
ascend you'll need strong boots and coveralls
steady
your hands on the wall of the canyon
this
land transitions without notice
when
the river flows
take
your turn to drink
---
e b bortz
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