Arizona made me quiet.
Arizona made me see.
For every flower wilting
there's
the ghost path of a
creek.

Arizona made me cautious.
Arizona made me choose.
Do I prefer a coy, dry heat
or the temptation called monsoon?

Arizona made me hard.
Arizona made me fast.
The sun is not my friend,
  he lives to laugh behind my back.

The red clay dirt sticks to me
in the
luxury of white
sheets
and now I know if I
move
a rock
scorpions
breed underneath

I'd like to say I've
grown from hollow, from the yellow
flowers in the dell -
from the fading wings of
promise, to the
loved from infidel

I'd like to say I've
found the plateau, from the depths
of all our wars -
from the hazy shade that
summer makes
-
from now to
evermore.

I'm not sure what happened
my first night at the
symphony -
it was a dark October
& you brought the
thunderous wonder of
        the Oregon
                   sea

I'm not sure what
touched me as your notes
lead me
to the pier -
      I'm drowning in idolatry
               for your beacon
                     & chandeliers

I'm digging through
buckets of sea glass and
agates
I found on the
beach
prying them out of the bitter, cold
sand,
          -  that ends at
white lines -
and concrete

The wind's in my face
and it's a furious hunt
to the point where I almost can't
   breathe

I'm on a continuous search
my knees caked in
dirt

seeking
     la joie  
           de
                vivre.

I haven't been saturated
in rain for
some time
or bathed in soapy shades
of color -
I haven't touched my hip-
bone
to a ballet barre
or even
talked to my
    mother

I haven't felt the tiny hand
   of a child touch my arm
or ran without the need for speed
    or been to my best friend's
farm

- it happened a few years ago
and I really am not sure why
I fell into a sleepy spell
between now and when you
died -
  I moved to the desert,
and I hardly said goodbye...

It's the hottest place I've ever been,
but that's not what made me dry.