The wind
rounding the gap
found me there
weeping under a
Joshua tree
and Oh I said
I am mortal all right
and cannot live,
by roads
stopping to wait
for no one coming,
moving on
to dust
and burned weeds,
having no liturgy,
no pilgrim
from my throat
singing wet news of joy,
no dome, alabaster wall,
no eternal city
The wind said
Wayfaring and wandering
is not for mortals
who should raise
the cock
that cries their
dawns in and
cannot always be coming to un
broken country
Settle here
by this Joshua tree
and make a well
Unlike wind
that dies and
never dies I said
I must go on
consigned to
form that will not
let me loose
except to death
till some
syllable’s rain
anoints my tongue
and makes it sing
to strangers
If it does not rain
find me wasted by roads
Enter angling through
my cage
and let my ribs
sing me out
Joshua Tree
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