He shakes his fist and makes a gesture
of wringing a chicken’s neck,
scowls and rides higher.
– Robinson Jeffers (“The Coast Road”)
Each chisel tooth sharpens
the jagged edge at the bottom
of mountains lapped
by sea, wind and time.
Such extravagance to see
between road repairs,
slides and fire
the Pacific pound
at their foundations.
I have been the horseman,
made my fist into a club
to slow the obvious,
the greed, the vain—
rode higher, closer to
more sympathetic gods.
drycrikjournal 