Pregnant

still early
massage said the nurses
lying on the table
I felt cuts into
hard calves
pumice over dead skin

Shadow

Have you seen
a shadow run
or even walk
on the ground

In the days

when playing with
dirt was fun
You hide a small stick
in a clump of sand and
shape it like a small
long bank.
Your friend marks the
place where the stick
might be with joined
hands on the ground
If you find the
stick in the unmarked
area you win

A bird is a color

Dark Goldenrod with black spots
Two birds with opposite pigments
small Owls
I regard them,
they fling a
one and half insect
I let the memorabilia crawl

I regard a baby
her shriek talk
her palm tight softness
she shies her head around

Night's voice

Does the night sing
like a bird awake
or stars twinkle loud
do the crickets lend
their chatter or is
it their drone, snore?

In this monophony,
the bear watchful
of a handful kid
is always silent

Preserving mould

A finsihed form
vs the flutes and
folds of a hanging cloth
Why are the edges and
walls polished
smooth, perfect
parallel, perpendicular

A prickly pear
next to a
grass bush

Memory

is a mischance
of steps traced back
to spot the hawk like
bird at the edge
of a tangle of walls
from the l b h sides

All the times you
stop by
the flower,
the ants,
for the time they deserve
they stay on
their stalks,
their mounds
forever.

Sleep

is relieving your
neck
from holding your head

tray table in flight

Chaski

Each journey
A relay with your
twins or triplets
till you meet the next
who can see what
you are about to see
and close to what
he is about to see


Chaski from pg 19, Forest primeval to park Avenue, The Routes of Man, Ted Conover

The Good of Culture

Cross Kneed


To alleviate pain
Unfurl
only to cross at shins
Why cross?
The good unknown to us
like an appendix
If time is the teacher
why lament on generation

With time

And out upon that naked lift of pasture
Where lay her stillborn child, she came, and there
Was caught in the wash and welter of two waves
Of life.
Ann Garner,James Agee
An interesting interview of Andrew Hudgins, the editor of Agee's selected poems.

Imagine all the things we lost,
safe in the waves somewhere
far away from us.
These dont diminish
as they recede.

Those who are next to it
are married to the sea
But how is the sea a refuge
for those who are not

Ironic that some time ago when I saw a foreign pop song where a guy throws letters into the oceans, it was unbearable to see.

Snow

In the Realms of the Unreal, a small girl in pink is watching the snow fall, through a window. Her arms are close to her body but her reflection in the glass shows them slightly away. May be its right to alter the reflection. May be thats how her mind feels, alittle free, watching the snow fall. As the narrator feels that he could watch it all night, I wonder if I can watch the sunny afternoon all along.
A group of people sit on a bench. they are tols that they are in a place for skiing. The snow patch is thin, then after all their motive to be there might be questioned. There is a patch of connecting ice on a tree. Then it starts snowing. In some place the snow falls definitely in big blobs.
May be the people will be stranded in th house for long.
A big bird on the road is feeding on something. A small bird by its ear is extracting something useful. A man and his son watch this in a blanket. Once the bird is done eating, it contracts itself closer to earth and expands itself longitudinally, ready to follow the movement of the watchers. I close my eyes and stay calm.
Last evening was the beginning of heat.

Blood shed

In abundance things look different.
A cut covered in bandaid is
different from a bottle of blood.
Through the plastic like grape juice.
cauldron of all types
jerry cans of it
all transparent, not just to contain
but to seethe, to pour, roll, waste
lie mute but still bubble as screams

Weeds

In the office parking lot
in enclosed curbs lay
some morning glory bushes
the one with the flowers
lay the farthest
looking like mini
Wilson weed.

Afar a medium sized
palm tree
when I could see its
whole length
its like I found a
place to
sit under

urged by
Pausing from Haiku mind, Patricia Donegan

Turn over

This morning I woke up to moonlight
from the window
where I pulled the blinds to make way
for the next days sun.
Last full moon morning we were
up at Piestewa peak watching the
biggest moon west