“
          Grand Canyon/West 
Human stories roll across the
Landscape, demanding attention, voicing 
Their energy, responding to my questions; 
The land only vibrates in the wind.
Or not. Rocks and lava, caught in the moment
Of fall, of flow, expose fractured
Innards and cooled heat, vibrate only rarely.
These human voices and the tales they tell
Deflect with looks,their gestures,
Their act of giving me what it can feel 
Myself, or at least understand. I can’t
Put myself in the pinyon’s place, trembling 
At the edge, growing at the upper end of a 
Human sized bowl, the lower end a slot i peer
Through to see the river’s ribbon, its white flecked 
Trail through the deepest cleft of all. I can’t know
The pinyon’s mind , though I try.
          ”
          ”