Reflections On Falling Off The Edge Of The Map, From Poet Damon Falke ("Reflections West," March 23 and September 28, 2016)
"The trouble with giving away a place name is that then we can guarantee someone else will go there," points out poet, Damon Falke. "No matter how remote the dirt road that winds its way to the overlook where the sunsets are eloquently perfect, someone else will seek and find the same road. When we expedite this process of finding, we (or someone) will begin to advertise our places through a precise network of signs and signals.
For a flag! I answered facetiously. A flag of tomorrow, fluent in fire, not just the whispers, lisps, not just the still there of powdered wigs, dry winds. Who wants a speckled drape that folds as easy over smirch as fallen soldier? This is rhetorical. Like, "What to the Negro is the fourth of July?" A flag should be stitched with a fuse.
Beside the waterfall, by the lichen face of rock, you pause in pine shade to remember blue for drawing back, and green for trust, replenishing yourself among familiar leaves with scattered sunlight. And beyond those trees in time not ours, you see our children search