9:07 PM

at the high point: a dead tree,
still standing
evidence of a campfire,
age unknown
snail on a rock (no shell),
inert alive

nearby: evergreen-bough chamber,
animal droppings
single impression in the soft soil
vaguely clawlike
mud and water on every trail
rain ripples

all of this exists because
I screamed and slugged a tree
shouted 'til my voice gave out
made my knuckles bleed
I hit and hit the stoic bark
rage frustration helplessness
and when my thermonuclear fire
was quenched, its fuel spent
my body - standing by the car
in the turnout nowhere near
a stoic tree - rejoined
my quieter imagination
and drove us to the high point

July 2001