poet in the desert
yes, yes, you laugh
but I’m doing it!
Spring time flowers
mountain blue birds
the sun pointing me,
ME , planet, earth, universe
nature and cycle, in the midst
amazed, I can still
feel this way
up here at the Ranger Station, I’m
up each morning to a shower, making my cot,
smoothing the Indian blanket,
I painted the back of my hat with a pictograph
design, pointing where I’ve been
a red and yellow shield on the front,
leading me forward
making coffee, listening to coyote country radio
as the sun is already hot
songs of ruined love, longing--
trailers and cars, desert loneliness,
simple relationships
busted, explained in songs
easy to see, the order in all this
sun up fast, a glaring shine on cactus flower
wild flower, watching the morning birds
by the dripping faucet, I see some footprints of coyote and deer
The ranger says the Big Horn come at night
early, the comet is whizzing
across the sky, a different language invisible to me
the rabbits, ears twitching
wind blowing
clouds like in time lapse
the blue shadows revolving
the flute like call, the oriole
from atop the Joshua Tree
this bird, to that flower
the desert sage smell and creosote,
raven gliding
coyote, jackrabbit,
make a world
to capture at once, trapping
do I want to own all this? sounds crass
sell it at the store, trophies to be hung
on the wall above the couch
wrestling with “dead boney words
rattling in teeth”
the bone heaps gathered
this special place, woven mysteries
I want to live-- among
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