on the grand coulee dam

Ashen slabs

Solemn fogs churn

A flag flutters idly

Its fabric lacewing thin

This, this is the place

the world turns

Battlements of wheat

Crenellated stone

Reflecting pools with shores ablaze

of willows dripping jewels

So lay siege

Lay siege!

We have already lain siege

The Seljuks are inside the walls

They ply their trade with mafic hands

And press them to the floor

of a desert-bare mosque

But who prays to whom

they know not anymore

Can the world even turn from within?

Ashen slabs

Solemn fogs churn

And there on the hillside

its fabric lacewing thin

A flag stands idly

but maybe a little less tall

Steamboat Rock, 11-12-25