"Staycation Las Vegas Dawn, Apollo": a poem

I look East. A lowslung pile of building, mountain, cloud, Snuggled up and down tight along across the whole horizon, the buildings one long ridge of live barnacles basking in cold March Sunrise, the Sun itself now only just hid behind. I await the Sun-itself any moment now, but first I give glance upvalley West. There, sudden, the whole reflected Sun is splash white-gold Booming off an east-face…