your hands are doorways to my home.  take a
look inside.  dawn spills into the hall, onto
the wall, splashing across pictures filled with
yesterdays and naked space left over
for tomorrows.  time pulls and pulls, stretching
and stretching until the shadows are so
long they cover everything and all light
has surrendered and retreated in shame.

i've never seen a new mexico sunset
the desert rocks like watchmen in silhouette
and a wax sky melting down in violet and crimson
like a secret ceremony from some forgotten religion

a new mexico sunset i've most certainly never seen
the clouds bowing their heads for the rising night queen
who comes in with the wind and kicks up the sand
and blackens the sky with a wave of her hand

the sun sets in new mexico
what a beautiful show
my dreams fill with colors
my eyes don't yet know

i wanted to write something about your
energy and how i like being in
its halo.  something about how i want
to dive beneath your sun-kissed surface and
feel what makes your heart beat.  the metaphors
aren't quite right and the flow is off but then
again, emotions often live between
the words so i guess this is what i want
to say after all.  please pardon the mess.

i think i'm going for something that is:

generally personal
and
monochromatically colorful
but
unaffectedly pretentious
yet
apathetically emotional
plus
elegantly ******
or
tastefully gaudy
despite
     being
crudely delicate,
idealistically realistic,
and
revoltingly beautiful.

behind her tear-soaked eyes,
a fresh memory as she slipped off to sleep:

with pink hues in the clouds,
she stood before the mouth of the night
there wasn't much time
before the swallowing of the light

so she ran to the waves
dragging her buddy, tracks in the sand
a chill and a splash as
the ocean leapt up and emptied her hand

he was ratty and ragged, but
stitched to her heart and stolen beyond reach
a lesson in letting go
on her first day at the beach

gloves, boots, eyes and breath
neon fingers grip the steam

time doesn't live here

your hot dust kisses stick to my sweat and
sink beneath my skin and melt into my
blood and rush through my heart and pour from the
cuts that you made with your tongue and dry in
the wind that carries them back to your lips
as

dust