poetry collection

Ben Arent

by David Allan Cates

If we were both
hanging from a cliff
by one hand
you'd tell me how scary
it is to be hanging
from a cliff
by one hand
and we'd talk about
how it makes you feel
and how your hand

"Parowan Canyon"

Apr 21, 2014

When granite and sandstone begin to blur
and flow, the eye rests on cool white aspen.
Strange, their seeming transparency.
How as in a sudden flash one remembers
a forgotten name, so the recollection.
Aspen.