on the state Line

I saw a mean steam engine

and a mirage

wild-paper flowers

lept from their cocoons

like white moths

We peeled pine trees

wrapped out throats

in bark to breathe

and chewed fireweed

to pass the time

We saw the tracks

of soft wolves

the'd wait on the ridge

for us to settle in

and then whistle

through their scissor teeth

at moonrise we'd fall asleep

I awoke to the loud thunder

of your voice

cracking like the

bulging knuckles of

mountains.