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goodbye matilija 107
The upper gorge: rest stop,
Midday; and half asleep
I hear your waterfall,
Maybe six inches tall,
Through alder and foothill ash
Gurgle hiss glug and splash
Between your banks and steep
Clean sandstone, that goes up,
Up to the yucca, small
With distance, along the top.
A coolness on my face
Breathes from the whole place --
Your remnant song, that seems
Refl ective, now, subdued,
Sounding entirely good.
With such things on my chest,
And with my Thermarest
Between me and the stones
And sticks, to spare old bones
That have no fl esh to spare
Outstretched, with eyes covered
Beside this upper reach,
With your much dwindled stream
Still making itself heard
I went down into sleep
Through the leaf-shady air.
In my sleep came a dream,
And in the dream
(I swear)
A vision, then a speech,
Abrupt as a sonic boom,