I know this sounds stupid but but
I can’t help it
It is good for my health
My mental health
You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?
The range goes deep into the horizon
It’s been snowing for days
I’m cold comfortable cold
Nobody was coming on the track
It was only me
White to both my sides
White front
White back
Light
I keep following the track
I keep seeking the range.
You hear me I know that
And nobody is here around
It’s only me and you
And I know you’re just a mount
But I need to talk to the mounts
Mount, can you hear me?
You hear me.
Do you hear me?
I’m getting nuts, you mount,
I need you, you mount,
Mount,
Mount,
Mount.
I keep following the track
I keep seeking the range
I’m feeling cold comfortable cold
It hurts
I need it to hurt
I’m getting nuts
I need you mount
I need to escape, I need to fall
I need to disappear, I need your help.
Breathe.
I take my cell phone from my pocket
Mount? Are you there?
I won’t be able to get to you
Whiteness is blinding me
I feel good
Lost
Breathe.
I’m getting nuts.
Can you hear me, mount?
____________________________________________________________________
Gabriel Aresti Jr. is the pen name of Ãngel Chaparro Sainz. Ãngel was born in Barakaldo, Basque Country, northeastern Spain around 1976. Currently, he is a professor of English at the University of the Basque Country where he has been teaching literature, poetry and history as well. Some of his short stories have been published in Deia newspaper and some other anthologies after being winners of contest such as Villa de Gordexola, Ciudad de Eibar or Ortzadar–all of them in the Basque Country.
To see more of Gabriel’s poetry published previously on WIZ, go here, here, here, here.
Wilderness Interface Zone 
Your lines are like bread crumbs I follow leading further and further into the wilderness, until I am lost like you. Can you hear me? I am here with you in the pure air waiting for answer. The mount surmounts Broad Band, and communication by cell phone fades in the whiteness. We are lost yet found
in our listening. As Herman Melville wrote also, there is ambiguity in whiteness.
I love the line, “I’m feeling cold comfortable cold.” That’s what I feel in the heart of a Minnesota winter–really all of your stanza four is striking home.
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Thanks for submitting this poem, Ãngel. It still feels familiar, fitting.
.
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Something about this tickles me. I love it…the idea of talking to a mountain, of waiting for it to answer back. I hope that’s not an offensive thing to say, I really enjoyed this poem and I identify with it, too. Some hard times in my life, all I’ve been able to do is pop in music and drive up somewhere high and look down on everything.
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So many thanks for reading so careful my poems. I really appreciate what you say. It’s so interesting to see how you feel them…
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