I fell into its ringing distances,
miles chimed by bell clapper heads
of wheat swaying back and forth
to the time of my shallow breath.
Wayside cornflower’s blue flame
scorched my body raw, a cheek flapping
howl hollowed out to the tin buzz
of cheap wind chimes outside the white
farmhouse flecks flying past. No human
caught my slight arc plummeting
past the amber waving walls
on which they walked like flies.
Tumbling through an endless tinnitus
I blacked out and awoke on the silence
of Table Mountain, rose and looked across
glass calm Lake Granby, Colorado.