Thursday, January 1, 2009

Before Sunset, New Year's Day

There are no dreams, no things to say yes to
In cactus nests, only what are to birds enormous logs,
Droppings lifted from the ground to the sky
To line the desolate caverns above our eyes
As spiny spires fire to another purpose
And beckon our heels to rise to see the sun,
Impossibly distant, a moment more above the horizon.