All summer
she brought me gardens
in her dress.

#

armadillo roadkill:
ants spill out their hole,
flat out scurry, fill maws
as they dismantle: snip armor--
skilled chefs scramble
in a dilly.

#

A small bird lands on the phone lines. And another. Another. They come:
bird
bird
bird

bird bird bird bird
bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird

and in the yard, twelve feet below, all alone, and twitching:



cat.

#

a million stars
blotted out by my breath

#

Lorca with a thorn in his tongue
spits out shadows of bees

#

a single raindrop
somersaults
a butterfly

#

the children are snoring
as I write poems
on my bride's bare back

#

tinsel
trails
from the ass
of
the
cat

#

coffee in a Kansas gas station--
looking everywhere for home

#

glove in roadsie tree
waving at travelers
who never return

#

Christmas Eve--
one snowflake melts
in a stoplight

#

cat twitches:

grasshopper

#

zydeco!
even the dead are dancing

#

deer stop
car radio
on the highway

#

America's a page of Kerouac,
a Johnny Cash song in the fog:
disjointed dharma poems, cowboy khatru
in the mind unspooling like a paper roll
click-clacking under keys of Underwoods:
blind whitewalls run the passing lanes
and radio unravels its AM hymn:
haiku of toilet paper, cigarettes,
acu-weather and female deodorants:
America, America, you go on, go on
forever.

#

Sign in diner window, Quanah, Texas:

THE TRAIN'S RUNNING
THE FOOD'S GREAT
SO COME ON IN
IF YOU AIN'T ATE.

#

Boca Negra Canyon, West Mesa, Albuquerque, NM:

I hiked up to the petroglyphs with that damned David Thomson. He stared at the ancient rock art in the brutal heat, then announced: "When I get home at the end of a hard day, and I feel the disturbing urge to carve wiggly lines in rocks, I realize I'm feeling petroglycemic."

#

What the magnets on my refrigerator said:
spider with a mountain skin

#

fog lifts--

pine tree
steps forth--

and another!

#

we stop to watch
Cajun children
playing soccer:
rain
on umbrellas
sounds like clapping.

#

"So, the world happens twice--
once what we see it as;
second it legends itself
deep, the way it is."
William Stafford

See you next time, sports fans--same time, same channel.
If you dream a little dream of me, I promise to dream about you.
L

# posted by Luis @ 9:07 PM