Younger

I remember
days of dreaming hunger
of thin-waisted rage
taut
against the inside
of an empty belly.

My dreams were
desert highways
hot and endless
under a burning
hemisphere of blue
charred white
at the margins
yellow-gray sand
and the
strange geometry
of geography
sculpted by
the ruthless elements
of vast spaces.
Melting pavement
shimmered black
toward the mountains
on the bubble-curve
of the horizon
as I stood barefoot
in spiky prairie wool
at its edge
in the aloneness
of wishing
on uncomplete
urges.