From
"Twelve Gates to the City"
Bill Shute
I
LAS CRUCES, 1 April 1993
As the dream I Placed before me, a rabbit
To my greyhound, evaporates
In the early sun Of April, not deferred
But faded as the heat
Rises, hope seems to fill the atmosphere, unseen
Though felt, on that second
Horizon I cannot yet see.
Son, daughter, and I facing Three gates to the east. We do not know how To enter. Vehicles pass
Us, everywhere movement
On over under through around The highway we were advised
To take. We break
The entrance, the sky
Extends the river’s invitation
Onto a higher plane.
I come forth, taking the hand
Of my son, my daughter, breaking
The stallion within, cradling my own
Mind. Let form be sought.
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