"I come here often, in my mind,
To fish daydreams,"
Though silence has not touched the
woods
Since the chainsaw
And
the bulldozer
And
the paving machine
Cleared a fifty year desert
As path
for smog-makers
And Lockheed flight eleven
Found a
path overhead.
Summer waters speak the future
Like a downhill line
As molecules spiral in the current
Correcting the river's lies.
8/12/84
Appeared in Hill & Valley, vol.
7, no. 8, March 1985 under the title "Walking the Back Fork"
