Dig a hole;
raven beak,
feathers and all,
the dark tide
billowing in under
purple eyed wide
through leaves
of fertile sleep, the
incandescent swarm
of light and keep. And
by agony of defeat, the red hand
swept by the cheek; behind the ear
where willows seek refuge from night's
gathered reap.
Dig a hole, for broken rhino horn,
for mercy's advice dropped and
scorned, from lily lips adorned,
for her pale wooden hands
glorified and sworn.

above the slow swell of summer inferno,
the arizona sunset glowing
an encapsulated ember portrait
of my two halves smiling. One with long hair
recognizing the cicadas ancestral arrival,
the other in her pulled aluminum lung,
screaming a winter's chill. Out in the quail's
rendevous, along paths of rubber streams we
broke from exaustion and into play's delight.
Under the dying sun, admired in it's glorious
surrender; late day's syncope, the jackrabbit's wide
turn. Rolling back with a film of ectoplasmic sorrow
from a flash of that fleeting moment.

Blood boil,
blood curl;
hidden Vesuvius
inside.

mas feliz

Green, her eyes were green,
her soul was green, lime green,
the face that held her smile, the
cheeks that kept her youth, green.

Somatic wonder, blue powder, the
pollen she stole, the blindness
of butterflies.



Each step a summer's song, thigh
of hunter's prize. Golden retreat;

the shy bottomless longing, in those
eyes I remember her story, fabled,
consecrated my mother's mouth.


And she moves through me, the
incorporeal being; mythic. As the sadness
swells in knowing as she was what she was:
a green wind under trees, never settling, the

stubbornness of bees, the white light open
through solidity of teeth.

blood turn
blodd boil
blood swim
into blood
fountain red

moon.