Fall Canyon
Sink your feet
into the black sand
of a tragedy or two.
The idea of a desert spills
from mesquite blossoms on the wind.
Under a new moon
a coyote steers
by wellhead gas flares
bearing a road-killed
woodrat to pups denned
between tanks of crude.
The sweep of dry air in creosote.
It can help to lie.
The best guide to time is a mesa
high above a silky dune
where I keep the gift of my death.
…..
This poem is from the chapbook Satellite View by Lance Newman (Finishing Line Press), and can be found at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/satellite-view-by-lance-newman/
Lance Newman teaches literature, media, and writing at Westminster University. His poems have appeared in print and web magazines in the US, UK, and Australia, including 1913, Action Spectacle, Blazevox, Dusie, No Tell Motel, otoliths, Queen Mob’s Teahouse, saltfront, Stride, Sugar House Review, West Wind Review, and Zyzzyva. He has published two previous chapbooks: Come Kanab (Dusi-e/chaps Kollectiv, 2007) and 3by3by3 (Beard of Bees, 2010). For more information, see http://www.lancenewman.org
The Paddock Review 