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The Wind, poem by Kent Duryee*

Kent Duryee ( wrote this poem the day Edward Abbey died.

For Abbey
Smoke twists from glowing juniper coals,
spiraling trail through the silence.
Red bandanna banner, floating in the cool night air.
Anarchy in the wind, swirling briefly near an empty trailer.
Wind in the chimes, coyote in the distance.
The howl no longer riled by the bearded piper,
echos off of red rock walls in a thousand screaming canyons,
and through the branches of a twisted juniper,
at the edge...the rim of the canyon...the shore of the world:
To arms! To arms! Come to my arms, my love, my sweet.

Stinging, wind blown sand, against a supple, curving arch,
Empty beer can tumbling across a bridge,
Flourescent streamers snapping from engineer's
carefully planted stakes, struck hard
into Earth's ripped and bleeding flesh.

Blow across the waters, and howl through the riggings
of the dam that stops them.
Glide beneath the vulture's wing, and lift him high,
above the canyon walls.
Carry the howl of the coyote across the canyon,
for all to hear;
Vox Calamantis in Deserto.
One voice, howling in the wilderness.
Howl, wind.

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