cxii.

the sky glows white behind the dark branches,

and falls gray on the carpet,

through the blinds--

--in the canyon, a magpie stands on the flat

at the rim, surrounded by sage

the black range, streaked with snow, 

it fills half the sky,

the peaks hold the sky up,

and catch it

in their valleys, hidden 

among the ridges--

I see the road rise, a thread

up through gold

into green to brown

into black,

as it rounds across the slopes,

I see it rise up 

to the gap 

until the coast pulls it across the land

I broke all of my promises except

a few I kept

but the unkept promises range ahead

and around me, like familiar ghosts

so I love them

because I love them, I take them with me 

the road is a string held up

by the sky

the mountains dangle

on it,

it promises nothing, it

makes me 

say, though:

sometime when I've spent the last night here

and seen the last dawn, 

      casting blue shadows across the slopes,

I will make something, promises unkept

streaming from my fingers

sometime after that, I will show you 

what I've made, 

      and I'll say I made this for you