Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           Inaninstanthewasthepoetagain,hisnervestingling,alivetoeverysensation,responsivetoeveryimpression.Thedesireofcreation,ofcomposition,grewbigwithinhim.Hexametersofhisownclamoured,tumultuous,inhisbrain.Notforalongtimehadhe“felthispoem,”ashecalledthissensation,sopoignantly.Foraninstanthetoldhimselfthatheactuallyheldit.

           Itwas,nodoubt,Vanamee’stalkthathadstimulatedhimtothispoint.ThestoryoftheLongTrail,withitsdesertandmountain,itscliff-dwellers,itsAztecruins,itscolour,movement,andromance,filledhismindwithpictureafterpicture.Theepicdefiledbeforehisvisionlikeapageant.Oncemore,heshotaglanceabouthim,asifinsearchoftheinspiration,andthistimeheallbutfoundit.Herosetohisfeet,lookingoutandoffbelowhim.

           Asfromapinnacle,Presley,fromwherehenowstood,dominatedtheentirecountry.Thesunhadbeguntoset,everythingintherangeofhisvisionwasoverlaidwithasheenofgold.

           First,closeathand,itwastheSeedranch,carpetingthelittlehollowbehindtheMissionwithaspreadofgreens,somedark,somevivid,somepalealmosttoyellowness.BeyondthatwastheMissionitself,itsvenerablecampanile,inwhosearcheshungtheSpanishKing’sbells,alreadyglowingruddyinthesunset.Fartheron,hecouldmakeoutAnnixter’sranchhouse,markedbytheskeleton-liketoweroftheartesianwell,and,alittlefarthertotheeast,thehuddled,tiledroofsofGuadalajara.