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Here Not There
Rocks and water and sun
Jungle of bent branches
Floating light-worshipped leaves
Staring downhill with the canyon breeze
Snow-water gurgle chirping
Behind and beside far away
From a radical wasteland
Of politics and cops with sticks
People kind and life oriented
Sprawl of homes and stores
Amid gentle slopes of green
Big rock encrusted hills
Along a pitted two-lane
Highway that's not seen
Twenty-car pileups
Crack-drunk fuck-ups
Stars too many to count
Let alone name in one night
Over-head of a smile
On a country lass
Tidies the stars
Brings them home to me
In the morning
In her pocket
