Snyder Mountain’s Crest

    
in still air I shout    
my silent poems    
resound in granite crags    
   
echo Thoreau’s words    
shift as pack-weight’s burn    
through every cutback laugh    
   
the altar’s pile stacked    
steel tubes, woven cloth    
snow’s taste on barren skin    
   
I dance the peak’s dance    
dervish native snake    
in time to scrotum’s slap    
   
crazy mountain man    
freezing mountain wind    
I sing Sky Father’s songs