The End
One gray animal walked to the edge of morning.
The moon was behind it and the road
wound north, an infinite hill.
And as there was simply no
reason to proceed
with the project it had set out on
days before, it sat down.
Eyes
are all I see of its gray face
staring into the morning
chilled past all desire
having at last come to the end.
Spear-Fishing on the Chatanika: New and Selected Poems
Salmon Publishing / Dufour Editions






