Henry Goldkamp

 

Desert, blue sky

 

A half-full phenomenon—
endless russets of dirt
horizoned& drinking
the generous, bottomless blue.
Only strangeness blooms here.
This doleful infinity
never meant any harm.
It is only wight in your eyes;
the mop-up
of the cropless
& the cloudless.

 

{Henry Goldkamp, henry@freshpoetrystl.org}