Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Mountain Time

Every time I step out into the windy hilltop surrounding my trailer, I feel like I am seeing it for the first time. The stars seem new to me and they have names that have never been spoken. The moon travels so fast through the sky. A week passes and it's been a year and yet only an hour. Rabbits freeze in the brush. I walk downwind and on stone, but still all the animals know where I am. The sun is wandering north again and it seems like yesterday I was three years old, milking a goat with my big sister, it seems like yesterday I was a little lizard-bird, watching the fall of the greatest lizard species on earth. Tomorrow I'll watch the great red sun set from Mars, the atmosphere of the sun expanding and engulfing the planet Mercury, thinking that once there were Sky People who came from Venus and Earth. I'll draw them on rocks and speak in flashes of chemicals.

1 comment:

  1. Billy, darling! Your beautiful gifts from the desert brought a fresh wind and scent of nature to our little community den here in the city. We joyously tore into your package together with giggles and glee. Thank ye. I love your diagrams, your lovely prose, your songs, and the brief glimpse of desert life you shared with us. Your bluebird hangs in our kitchen, your music fills our house, your feathers, resin, beautiful stone adorn my altar. Like a kiss from the stars, you brought us light. So happy that soon you will be amongst us! You're welcome on our couch, right next to River's drum set. I love the bird-hand-face drawing, and that you were so sweet to River. xo.