I think of myself positioned
between the majesty of Mount Gorgonio
and an eight mile beach
where I walk every morning
on the edge of the continent.
The breakwater was laid half a century ago
to make a harbor and the waves are tamed.
But here where the Pacific begins
I feel lateral expanse, the breadth of prospect.
In Kansas there are no monuments of sea and mountain;
the land insists on itself, it will not share space.
Pageant distills upward into columns of horizon and
sky’s libido thrusts archipelagos toward heaven.
Originally published in Cider Press Review, Volume 1.
