We drove all scorching day up 190
from near Shoshone to Valley Junction,
rumbled south to Badwater—our country’s
lowest point—and now lie here, our unction
this night sky pouring over Panamint
Range, Racetrack Playa’s dry basin flowing
beneath us like colonies of veined slits
in an ancient temple’s floor, stars glowing…
no…exploding around us. Love, we may
not see this dark night again, the Milky
Way’s arch like a blazing bridge to Yahweh.
The world falls prey to civilized light. See
how that distant strip of horizon’s bright:
man’s torch burning angels’ eyes from our sight.
Roger Armbrust
July 13, 2008
