Poetry Travel

To the Desert from Vegas (With Pictures)





On a Flight to Nevada


And so, the sun will wait

to set for me

but the city won’t wait to miss

the last show, the closing hour.


A wind will ring again

the leaves slowly bloom

the mountain laurel opens pink

at the tall ridges we

climb, slowly between naps

the city keeps growing, hindering

the proper evolution of man

which means I have been too

busy for loneliness.


What have we forgotten to look for

in our rush to notice first?

The speed and entangled manner of

technology that keeps us preoccupied to live?



*Italicized line from Lucia Penillo, the poem constructed after reading Inseminating the Elephant, David Budbill’s Happy Life,  Dean Young’s Fall Higher and James Richardson’s By the Numbers.

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