When entering the Gorge, leave behind all preconceptions. Let yourself be carried off on a stream of consciousness that tickles the heavens as readily as it grinds down stone.

Like A Mouse On A White-Marble Floor


Little mouse running

across the cold-

marble floors of the

airport, scurrying


for refuge, looking

for a place to hide

before it’s mopped

up and thrown to


the trash or cornered

and stomped like

the vermin it

doesn’t know it is, poor


little creature,

running through the

departure halls of the

terminal, spawning


terror and disgust

in the souls of the delayed

passengers, signing

its own death-warrant


every time it sticks

its head out to

skitter and steal

across the room.


Poor little Jerry.