"abiquiu" poems
Hills, brown rustic reds
skies pile colored layers on
Rattlesnake vertebrae bones
scent of creosote
high desert home
Lover, painter
wild poppies - orange paper
petals, sepal magnification
watercolor, oil painted
gradations
Abiquiu home,
desert ghosts, coyotes
wildflower gardens grown
to pick, to paint perfection
a flower
alone
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
it’s like the fires that have ravaged this breathless land,
refusing to relent, and the parched clouds that fall
against the rolling adobe hills. it’s like the fire
of red and orange ombré spilling into the abiquiu,
a halo of lush greenery rushing toward the water.
like yesterday’s wind, my breathing is shallow and dry,
choking on the depth of your hazy breath that curls
from the corner of your lips. i drove on heat waves
for miles as i watched fires crawl into the mountains,
down into the skeletal rivers that are nothing but stony
memories. the earth is bony, long fingers of dead streams
crushed in the grasp of 115 degrees. this morning, i lay
gasping in your arms, remembering the temptation
of your breath as we sat in the moon’s silent ebb. the fires,
they will burn more until there is nothing left but the naked
and raw land, and then the rains will come again and wash
the ash and the mud away. but with you, i will never call
for a raindance, knowing the only way i will burn is when you
are filling me with fire.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 5:10 PM UTC
riverrun past eve and adam so
fast it tossed up my chainmail
vest. For a second it shone my
tattered back battle scars.
I’m not one to reminisce
about bad times but the fish
I had wrangled had rattled so fierce
I bell fack-boreward into the fox
of fishing hooks.
Dangling pirate hands shredded
sails salty water waves filled my
whales -- “ARR ME BACK”
The fish cackled and got away.
The boat was in the Abiquiu river, a ways away
a way a lone a last a loved a long
the riverrun
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 8:11 PM UTC