February-March 2003


The corridors of our labyrinth are all

downward spirals, white on white.

We inscribe the same patterns in light

powder or hard blue ice. Under tall

pines we glide, weightless & dumb, small

almost imaginary beings. No rest at night,

we dream this same white dream. Who can fight

the snow? who choses where to fall?

To repeat oneself forever, up & down,

is purgatory, but to love it, to accept

this white puzzle of snow & tilted space...

In such a maze who can accept or reject?

It’s all the same: mountain, plain, country, town.

We would be no freer in any other place.

 February-March 2003
photo at top:
in the "Mine Dumps"
on Aspen Mtn,
photo © Burnham Arndt
All contents of this web site
© Lito Tejada-Flores unless otherwise credited.