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From Impaled on Times Illustrious Arrow

My eyes fall upon the cathedral of morning,
an old woman kneads bread dough
by her wood-fired stove,
sun-baked laborers with leathery hands
hang dry wall against a parched new mexico sky.


An old and dusty locomotive pulls freight
across the shimmering desert,
a river of brown school children pours out of
the confines of a white stucco school house
into the unmistakable daylight.


Lovers long for the red tilt
of twilight summer air that
heralds the arrival of sweet darkness.


Sand blows softly against the horizon
as the expansive landscape shrinks into
a deep and cavernous sleep.