poem by Fred Leeds
There goes Arizona.
It has not learned of Arizona from books.
It does not know its purple sunsets by hearsay.
It emanates sunsets as easily as it breathes.
Here comes Arizona.
It does not see itself in the mirror, cannot remember its own landscapes.
It becomes Arizona again each day, as if it were unsure.
It does not know that it is one of many states.
Can you see Arizona?
It lives and it dies as Arizona, determined and alone.
It is not only the Arizona that you and I know about, nor the one that others speak about, but itself.
That is its first task, of course: to fulfill itself as just one work.
Arizona is very right and very Arizona, but it is still dreaming.
One day it will catch America peering into one of its sunsets, and climbing back onto the map, it will awaken.
826 total views, 1 views today