I’ll never willingly go up again
Flocks of windmills
Channeling the untransmittable
Tell me all of your secrets
Seventy miles per hour……….the knot I tie or untie
Hill into valley hill into valley
My name escapes me
Highway winks…………….rolls me over its tongue
I’ll tear my heart out,
Each crow reminds me
The sky bruises, burns
With everything we chose not to see
First light in the desert is a bruise and a lie
Waking in the bed of a truck that doesn’t belong to me
I’m all by myself
I can feel what you’ve left for me
A small leather pouch cinched tight
I wait until my lungs are full of smoke
I open as I exhale and open even more when I see
Two small white pills and a folded note
‘For when god sleeps in bliss’
I know nothing of god, nothing of sleep
I used to know bliss
Jackrabbit took off with my innocence
So I spent a life constructing a lure
Rubbed stones for alchemical reasons
Pressed this body against dirt
Wet a finger with impossibly red tongue—–not mine
I called you from a snake I picked up on the road
No one knows
Where our secrets go
With my innocence traveling in a mouth
Across sand and wayward seed
Red ants cauterize my muscle, that
Heart, my unrepentant resident
Words defy the plan
Then I see it: in the distance
SPACEBOY [SLIGHT RETURN]
From the bottom of the valley floor it’s easy to want to swallow every star
Flashing and spinning and bright-ing and might-ing
Keeping the dark valley floor half-lit
I am also half-lit my belly full of potion made from whiskey
You always said ‘they’re going to kill me’
I never believed I never lost a step I never felt the invisible hands
Now you’re gone and I miss you
Which star are you?
I want to take you into myself
The saguaro are waving at me
Mumbling your name and swaying in the unreal waves
The dirt things are doing their dirt things
My belly is a swarm and my eyes are full of your face
The halo around the moon looks like an opening door
I miss you
In a dream
We are contained.
My ring a centipede.
We are connected
Coyote claws the door.
You always notice whirlpools
Where I’ve left confidence behind.
It leaves an opening. Another mouth.
I learn my way—–
By this window a transcription shapes.
You turn air into breath into shadow.
Then pace meet pace—–
Drops of red adorn the bedspread
Gown: this body’s reservoir of ink.
At the wrist
Transgressions after sunset:
Black lines spill over you.
Stars the only portals out.
If you hold your hand in front of your face while facing the setting desert sun
Can you see the web of light between your splayed fingers?
If you close your eyes can you see the dirt move?
Heat is heat but the kind of heat that bakes soil into a knife is
The kind of heat one finds underneath the sternum
I used to put my ear to the desert floor and listen for coyotes
Thunderstorms and flash floods
Now I live in concrete and steel
Now I feel no pain
I can taste the nickel of guitar strings in the space where a tooth used to live
I can smell the cordite of rifles and handguns rising from yucca
If you wait long enough the sky will shift and you can use those same hands
To scoop stars into your mouth