Nick DePascal

Walking along the river’s edge,

The water level low this year

The receded river reveals

.

A lifetime’s worth of accumulated

Garbage. A bicycle straddles

A burned out, gutted blue

.

Sofa, spilling its soggy innards

To a sun close and ragged.

I step through tall grasses

.

And reeds and feel the ground

...

Three sisters

Sit in judgment-

Darkly, mutely on the mesa,

Apportioned their appointed part

In the cosmic monotony.

.

A man is shot dead

On ancestral lands (now

“Ran” by the national park

service) praying to

The four directions, hand

On his chest & over

The heart. Belligerent

At the command to leave,

...