I dream of infernal pallors, Lily-dead smokes infesting Switchback rivers that snake The peace-bedizened landscape-- Full of river verve and tribal tums. Full, too, of the fulsome motions Of desire-- its bleak, expressive needs Coiled in the chocolate dark of dreams. I sketch red arroyos with my Fingerend, carve clouds with my breath, And roil the Rappahannock with swales of tears. . . . By inches I enrich the night grasses, Dibbling endless seed as carelessly As the storm-strong river veers.