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Poetry

(rd king dot net)
poetry and digital art

American Summer

Poems written while traveling.

High Desert Sunday 


As consciousness persuades the penitent
to provide morning services, the mindful

ponder what is forbidden, and why—
which is what I find myself doing

as we roll through miles of stony sagebrush
broken only by the distant Rockies.  I wonder:

why am I drawn toward that which deceives,
that which unleashes, that which empowers,

and that which befouls the mind and organs?
Only hours later, overlooking a stunning vista,

I turn to the French tourist beside me.  Brow
furrowed, I exclaim:   "My, isn't that a big duck."




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