West Desert Journal by Nathan Cowlishaw

I Dream of
cottonwoods gathered in river bottoms,
waving mountainous branches,
and knowing their wise spirits.

I dream of
sandstone canyons
and feeling the roaring of flash floods
and the thunder of rainstorms

I dream of
barren isolation,
of weaving through the deepest
interiors of the Colorado Plateau.

I dream of
constantly scouring the landscape on two feet,
beneath galactic clouds and blue sky.

I dream of
Creator’s artwork of sprawling wastelands.
I dream of the furthest horizon.

I dream of
someday dying in desert seclusion.
Let the wildlife feed on my remains.
Let my bones bleach under sunrays.
From dust we came.

Written by Nathan Cowlishaw