abbey-utahn

February 5, 2025

The clouds passed, in phrases and paragraphs, like incomprehensible messages of troubling import, overhead across the forested ridges, above the unsealed cliffs, beyond the uninhabited fields of lonely mesas, followed by their faithful shadows flowing with effortless adaptation over each crack, crevice, crease and crag on the wrinkled skin of the Utahn earth.

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Thought:

“One test of a good poem is that it is as current as the latest fad or frenzy and yet could be understood as wonderful and ‘current’ in 100 or 500 years.”

Ron Silliman

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