Best Humboldt Poems

Beyond the mighty Humboldt
Where the Artemisia blooms,
The broken ribs of mountains
Lie tilted toward the sky.

‘Twas called a wretched wasteland
That Satan, himself, passed by;
Where no self-respecting bird 
Would stay if it could fly.

Its rivers are pretenses,
Called navigable by law.
Thirsty dragonflies may wing
Thirty miles to find a...

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