“AT LAST I’M LEAVING LUCIA AND HEADED FOR THE MOON”

Canyon gray and deer grass

                    Sage in my pocket 

                                        The blended horizon of vast ocean and sky 
                                                            as infinite 
                                                                                as consciousness 

                    A flashlight on the hill, 
                                        blink 
                                                            and a shooting star

                    Shoved from the cliff by the dancing trees

To the starving grave

— Matt Bechtold lives and writes in Los Angeles.