Mohave

Standard

Rocks carelessly cast
from granite hills,

trapped by gravity and time,
slant skyward,

knives pointed at the throat
of heaven.

Like God’s memory this desert stretches
beyond our ken.

Ten-thousand cliffs rise from the level bed,
of a forgotten sea;

long ago in steam it rose
and jet-stream borne,

races through unmeasured time
in endless storm.

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