Unimpressed with me or my camera, the raven, clove black with a touch of tar, draws easily from the pine needle-covered stream. So easily, the way honeysuckle curls over the broken necks of cedar, or how, in slumbering isolation, a reddish shade of Colorado awakens as a poet ready to desert his own mind.
colorado
Boulder, Colorado
Is the wry grin an old hippy makeswhen hiding a handfulof magic mushrooms. Or the way strangers feel innocentand accomplished at the summit. Nowhere but down to go from there. Sucking the jeweled teeth of the Flatirons like kids.