the velocity of any journey postpones

when the aura responds to the soul's precious breath,

when unbelievably fine-lined fibers

spread themselves along prismed spaces

as if Don Genero himself had spraypainted them there

and with the Sulphur Springs wind bathing this boundless ride,

the distant desolate Chiricahuas quickening the sight,

our bodies reciprocate

unfold along with

all that rises from above

ten wanderers embarked on a luminous journey,

unfathomable warriors riding cheap retreads,

tires barely mounted

aligned with anywhere,

their minds temporarily abandoned

aboard some burning rubber raft,

battleship settlers applauding

when the driver farted out the window

blaming the potholed bus responsible

and somewhere along that boundless burnished road,

a metaphysical lift agreed to expresses itself,

so that everyone traveling

outside the singed inevitable cacti

would get stuck within each other's transient awareness,

then emerge from the gateway,

tonal into nagual

nagual back to tonal

meantime the driver considers "where we ever gonna find a spare tire?"

meantime the driver responds "when we quit tryin"

meantime the windshield reflects

an image of a nesting owl

unfolding her prophecies,

for these butterflies

to pass over and unwrap their fate

3 sept 1975; outside Douglas, AZ