On days like this
cool, with little winds
desert birds forage for sticks
they build nests perched in cactus
some build green in palo verde trees
always I think of baby birds in spring
hatchlings, the fledglings that fly
I travel far beyond the noise of towns
watch the movement of cooling clouds
the roundness of rain upon the ground
the grey banked scurrilous skies
of hurried birds, their silhouettes before a storm
daisies that close, cold amid the stones
beneath where snakes and lizards go
slither and crawl in this landscape of saguaros
and I, ever tethered can only dream to fly.

Along this pilgrimage made
with candles lit by the sun, a holy desert communion
seeking connection to the one, here in this fiery church
I have found lost souls, sun bleached bones
they drink the moon and sun
saguaros wander to and fro
all are parched none are full
cactus leaning, I am kneeling
here at this earthly altar
awaiting resurrection
I have come to pray
watching nights and days
these veils burn away.

Melt with me in dry rivers
against saguaro lined trails
until night slices in slivers;
fractals of sage and coyote tails

howl against saguaros and Hohokam trails
where a fingernailed eclipse
fractures an image of sage brushed tails
in a rhythmic tune stoked on melodious lips.

A fingernail moon splinters an arid eclipse
as stars and clay erode, fading to dust
circles in hummed tunes on July-desert lips.
Pink-purple fingers stretch across dusk

until the parched night crescendos in slivers
and melts away in me, filling beds and dry rivers
with the stars and burnt clay, eroding to dust
as pink-purple fingers strum out a song in the dusk.

On days like this
cool, with little winds
desert birds forage for sticks
they build nests perched in cactus
some build green in palo verde trees
always I think of baby birds in spring
hatchlings, the fledglings that fly
I travel far beyond the noise of towns
watch the movement of cooling clouds
the roundness of rain upon the ground
the grey banked scurrilous skies
of hurried birds, their silhouettes before a storm
daisies that close, cold amid the stones
beneath where snakes and lizards go
slither and crawl in this landscape of saguaros
and I, ever tethered can only dream to fly.

Sonoran Song


Melt with me in dry rivers
against saguaro lined trails
until night slices in slivers;
fractals of sage and coyote tails

howl against saguaros and Hohokam trails
where a fingernailed eclipse
fractures an image of sage brushed tails
in a rhythmic tune stoked on melodious lips.

A fingernail moon splinters an arid eclipse
as stars and clay erode, fading to dust
circles in hummed tunes on July-desert lips.
Pink-purple fingers stretch across dusk

until the parched night crescendos in slivers
and melts away in me, filling beds and dry rivers
with the stars and burnt clay, eroding to dust
as pink-purple fingers strum out a song in the dusk.

Cool cloud shrouded air, here where I find myself
surrounded by giants, legends, these mountains
I am miniscule as one grain of sand
the people here are giant, green saguaros
holey, with birds that live within
they are fit with wild reaching arms
guardians of the desert land
anchored, deeply grounded
in this whirling vortex
unhurriedly they grow
blooming yellow flowered
with petals that pale and fall
they are true friends
that I have come
to know

Craggy spires atop a canyon wall,
against a pure blue sky and sun;
the creek's flowing over tiny bridges,
and the day is only partly done.

Twenty miles away, lies Tucson,
you can see it's skyline shimmer;
but here is nature,  in the raw,
those are memories that linger.

Saguaros stand in stately fashion,
amongst the rock and barren land;
the views, they take away your breath,
the vistas sweeping, wide and grand.

It's 80 in this later month of winter,
this freaky temperature is strange;
I wear a t-shirt and my hiking shorts,
out here -   out in this open range.

Sabino Canyon is a place majestic,
reminding me of why I love the West;
the sky, a vast and huge umbrella,
the splendid canyon, takes care of all the rest.

Saguaros stood
like spiny-sentinels
as I sped along the Camino,
alone,
top down.
Warm winds &
tequila-breath
burned my shot-eyes
when I first spotted
the thumbing Lupita,
way south of Ensenada
on good 'ole 1.
Her graceful
toothy-smile
under her full lips
seemed gracious
as I pulled up
alongside her,
kicked the door open.

She hopped in
& we catapulted
with her hair streaming &
brown-skin shining
in the falling sun.
We hit high speeds
smiling
as we continued
south, driving
into the coming night.

Twinkling-stars
& static-filled
La Bamba-tunes
kept us company.
We discussed
sacred-mysteries
in broken languages,
later, counted
each others toes,
rubbed noses
in my bedroll.

In the morning,
she was gone
left me a note
& the ruffled rose
she had pinned
in her raven-black hair.

As I drove off
in a dreamy-state,
somewhat disappointed,
a spiraling one,
a lone black bird
trailed behind me,
I'm sure it was her.

Soon, she disappeared
from my rear view memory,
but never out of my mind.

The rising moon and setting sun share
A private dance in the magenta sky
Late in September, high abone the newborn river
Overgrown with ivy and nettles and other creeping things

The desert toads sing serenades to silence
The wren the rabbit, and the dove conduct a nervous waltz
Ever watchfull for the hawk and the owl, eager to cut in
The endless tango of life and death electrifies the air

On the hill, saguaros raise their arms to heaven
To worship the sun in their ancient ways
Bellow, by the river's edge a playful breeze
Sends bronze leaves to pirouette through fairy corridors.

Tall trees take root about the timid estuary
Enwrapped by sun baked stone and wreathed by mountains
The desert and the river
Dance together in the sweet autumn air.

On days like this
cool, with little winds
desert birds forage for sticks
they build nests perched in cactus
some build green in palo verde trees
always I think of baby birds in spring
hatchlings, the fledglings that fly
I travel far beyond the noise of towns
watch the movement of cooling clouds
the roundness of rain upon the ground
the grey banked scurrilous skies
of hurried birds, their silhouettes before a storm
daisies that close, cold amid the stones
beneath where snakes and lizards go
slither and crawl in this landscape of saguaros
and I, ever tethered can only dream to fly.

I want to take acid under an open sky  
Listen to tame impala and drink orange juice

I want to lay on the earth and let dust coat me
See stars glisten, shining upon saguaros

And for once not just because I want to be high
its been a long road, still a long road to go

I want to melt into life. My labor to bear fruits
Believe in myself and be cocky

cause its been a long road, still a long road to go.

but i know where the **** im going now.

An intro
Of instrumental
Snow—
Captures
This Void,
And it’s not
Winter
Anymore.

Tracing
This triangle,
Temporarily
Drawn in.

The pavement
Expanded
To the Milky Way,
And I escaped
The presence,
Inside.

Warmth
Of fire
Over cold
Steel,
Unveiling
Someone’s
View,
Still.

Sparks
Flew over
Desert Dust,
A phantom
In this present time.

Saguaros
Lined Hills
At Dusk.

Manifesting,
Stolen hearts
Stealing others’.

Otherworldly,
As if
To discern
No difference
Between
This life
And the last.