We don’t imagine men
who live alone
in the mountains
of ever dying—
we seldom saw them
when alive.
Word trickles down
the watershed:
tracks in fresh snow
where he lay down
forever to become
part of our landscape.
We don’t imagine men
who live alone
in the mountains
of ever dying—
we seldom saw them
when alive.
Word trickles down
the watershed:
tracks in fresh snow
where he lay down
forever to become
part of our landscape.




