Nick DePascal

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,


Nick DePascal
American River

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