Canyon Dream

Deep deep down

That canyon is still there

Beneath bayou mud

And autumn snow


Her river runs

Within my blood

To never reach

The sea


Salt Cedar

Cheat grass

And Vegas

Suck her dry


And I

May never

See her there



Now I only see

These weekend cowboys

Who’ve never seen a drive-way

Much less a drive


And fools who curse


In states

It has no land


This canyon runs

Deep within me

Beyond the hundredth

And far beyond your mind




photography from across America


This entry was posted in American History, Colorado, hiking, nomad life, park and recreation, Poetry, social commentary, Social Justice, the american west, The Wandering Yankee, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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