Over the Pass

is good dental care,

clean air

and electricity which doesn't waver.

The Pass is thin,

like the eye

of a needle.

Moguls, Chinese, Russians

and tolerance, have never

come through;

gelignite and guns,

bombs and particles are slippery,

fluid, flexible.

We drive on a narrow

track- these slim pickings

squeak through.

We are in pieces.

The sky, under a white mountain,

is impassive.

It bites down:

flickers with indifference.

poet's biography ->