Contemplation: Billy Goat Trail

Out here, on these vicious rocks that come at me
in sharp angles and steep climbs, I search
for the oneness, wholeness, the entire anthology

of being. This craggy scramble over thick bushes,
stony slides—could mark my end, this revolving
around and around while the trail disappears,

dirt beneath my sneakers harder than crash
landings. Good times, horrible moments, bad
fantasies all fade from view as I assess this view;

these waterfalls, so thrilling with their relentless
splash, constant surges assure all movements
left are dangerous, and I remember

the warning signs at the …