The audacity of humans

to build their houses

and stick their flags

into the mountains.

There’s nothing to see here.

You may find some burnt out

trains and pieces gold

or hear whispers in the wind

of ancient stories told.

It’s hard to breathe up top.

Even with confidence

as high as a moose’s back

grace and elegance

is what the pocketbooks lack.

The price doesn’t cover the freedom.

Land of the green leaves

no smoke in the air

only the stench of exclusiveness

rots in the nose of what’s there.

What have we left,

but the crater of man’s footprint

and the windings of tragic roads

imagining they’ll lead to somewhere

a place that arrogance goes.

This belonged to many tribes.

So let the rivers and trees be named

let the honor of what was

stain the memories of romance

and let them haunt with just cause.