The Way to Bull Creek

Vincent Hostak

December 17, 2022

The best way to reach the creek

is to follow others

through scrawny mountain juniper

on two wheels ringing

like bell-strung trousers

charm strung skirts

Follow, too, the raspy song 

of a thirsty red-eyed vireo

down an unmarked canyon switchback

 framed with cold limestone

pitched by the Long Loose Fault

without intention

a hazard on all sides 

without intention

warning to you

“sharpen your gaze”

smudged in the tongue of rubber-stained glyphs

by those who fell, 

split helmets, maybe more.

They -- already bathing beautiful

skinned knees, naked in the creek,

the early ones

socks and cleats half buried

in muddy shoals.

The best way

empties into live oak groves 

fed by a secret aquifer

ruled by a blind salamander

found only here.

The best way

is through a sticky net of cankerworms

and tiny insects for which there may

be no name in any language.

When you arrive, wipe the tangled lacework

from your eyes and cheek

share with these the warm

top water from the creek.

Vincent Hostak is a writer and media producer from Texas now living near the Front Range of Colorado south of Denver. His recently published poems are found in the journals Sonder Midwest and the Langdon Review of the Arts in Texas and as a contributor to the TPA. He writes & produces the podcast: Crossings-the Refugee Experience in America