Everywhere I go I study the scars on earth's face, including rivers and lakes. I'm not playing God but assessing intent. In the Patagonia Mountains you think, "small mines, pathetic deaths." In Cabeza Prieta men boiled in their own blood, ground temperature 170° Contrails of earthen scar-tissue stink of sulfur. Gold & copper to buy the horse that died, the woman who left. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LESSER EPISTLES: TO BERNARD LINTOTT by JOHN GAY PLACES: 2. FULL MOON (SANTA BARBARA) by SARA TEASDALE OENONE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE LAST MAN: MEDITATION by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES PORTRAIT SONNETS: 3 by HENRY BELLAMANN RECALLED by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |