PILE OF BONES Who swallows all the rocks & mountains       & spits them out again to be seen, finally. Would make a group of seven cry. Not a map with its flat relief & empty legends       but lines that threaten to rupture at any moment             & show displeasure at the indifference of insects. How scale this wolfish bark content to box itself in canyons? Keeping the moon captive in a pail of water by the door       settles a town that defends things as they are             because they are refusing to give ground. An interest past potatoes. Madly howling when rowers rowing through dust       begin to resemble landscape & vice versa. The embalmed everyday claiming each city 'Pile of Bones'. Lying at the heart of no mystery. The railroad brought the first & lasting lyric. Passengers hypnotized by that dead refrain. Faces imbedded in glass. Rifles leaning cocked from their eyes. Sights set forever on the same mindless game. When she saw the name on the sign she laughed       'It's not on the map,             so it doesn't exist.' Shifting domains. Who would recognize the moon       given all this distance.