Following a dream
     it's like trying
     to catch a butterfly
     with bare hands,
in a hypnotic spell,
reaching farther and farther
earth, grass, winged colors melt
and sink in the sky...
where am I?

  Among hills and slopes
of a wishful hell,
  shifting shades and hues
light is cutting deep wounds;
    there I find myself,

between incandescent hopes
and brief thunderstorms
of heavenly clues
to the Petrified Forest
of millions and millions
soul fossils - gemstones
burried in the Painted Desert
of this monumental, wild,
new land.



Elena Malec, California 1997