Monumental Valley We made the right wrong turn south and the road turned to dust and it told us not to turn away from the beauty that would lay ahead— we arrived at the edge of the cliff and the road edged west hair-pinned east and it told us: don’t look down look ahead ahead— we saw the peach-bright sky the day-long sun and the monumental valley that had sunned itself to every shade of ochre aflame like a goddess telling us: lay yourselves at my feet— we drove the vanishing-point southwest and the moon rose and rode among the brush and jagged buttes until the heat of the road against the cool night told us: surrender so we laid our bodies on the ochre and slept— and under the stars and shadows of monoliths our dreams became a pair of wheeling tumbleweeds dreaming of winds that carry us to a land where only dreams matter— under the stars and shadows of monoliths only dreams matter.
10 Comments
8 more comments...No posts
This is amazing, Alan! I love the images and rhythmns. How the poem feels like an incantation by the end.
We live such a beautiful world, don't we?