david in the canyon

in the high canyons,
the wind swept about the red
clay dust

and it caught
in his hair and in his dark

until above the rudimentary
erudite of
carved statuettes dankly echoed,
his fine dark hair,

and in his dark
hair it was his eyes

while the winds drew up about,
the red dust. and it was a long
way, from the heavy canyon, the
compressed river air

while his dark hair, and
in his dark hair the desert mirages
spangled about in new testament rubber

the desert was forgotten in a pious

and oh
yes he was
gideon alone.
the midianites
banked the new horizon
and until the fleece
swept he dark-
haired gideon stood


in the red clay canyon