roared across the High Steppes of Asia, up an icy
trail in Massachusetts,
sweeping New Mexico's High Desert floor,
blowing back to Asia by the coast of Caifornia.
Trees bow to the earth,
Their backs weighted
runes of a rusty water pump,
into a canyon
is watered by
frost, my ears open
to where bound
still raise their eyes to the sun, and Howl!