56. nomad

because one candle burned down last night

gutting itself on its own light

while the other casts one more day loose 

i suspect the timing of all pairs is off by a breath

a footstep 

one caress.

still, the still night’s beauty

burns a million holes in the black sky,

all lucid affirmation and complicated constellations 

dreamed every century by nomads 

who find each other.  

it is true that my faith in stars 

and the symmetry of two 

matches closely enough 

a moment 

the cast of an eye

and that candles are for settlers

whom I never really understood.

55. night of the moon crater

In the slipcover of sand dust

I sleep.

Between the down of insect’s wings

I sleep.

Under the spring quilt of stars

I sleep heavily,

one slippery breeze

stealing its caresses.

.

A coyote craving a bite off water

of the cool tinaja

sweats a trail across basalt,

toenails snapping quietly.

Tender calls of the owl drift

up the arroyo rock to rock,

shift darkness aside by

translation echo.

Bats toss whole lives with one

dip of wing

teaching fighter pilots to dream

each instant complete.

.

Between a slipcover of desert dew

I wake.

Under the warm down of sunlight particles

I wake.

In the palm of an ochre dune

curved to cradle hips 

I wake

slowly,

one slippery breeze

stealing a last long caress.

54. nevada

leaves rattle across hot sand

like sticks still in the trees

tapping out wind.

dry grass kneels

pale gold against black rock

and silently

as if a secret passes.

.

i would taste your shoulder

brown and bare and smelling of fresh water.

one soft lick of our hope or fear.

i would kiss the touch palm of your hand

teeth clicking softly with anticipation

hair brushing your damp chest.

.

if you were here

i would be the wind

that gently shifts the leaves 

and bends the grass

for your pleasure.

52. By Moons

In a dream I bled

red fern fronds

lacy crimson

on the new moon.

I bent to examine slick foliage

as it was born

dropped from between my thighs 

onto dark loam

between my feet.

.

​Ruby filigreed

netting rain forests.

​leaves involving

​concerts of translucent

​blister cells.

Blood scarlet

​My own calyx

wet against my fingers.

.

Everything I shed is so alluring.

Every day I am 

exquisite

without applying effort.

I am beside myself.

51. Just Lust

I could not find enough of him

to satiate lust and sure, every

time I glanced across the table

there were his hungry eyes.

Dios, le cuide.

If my body song ran

harmony to the side show

of words we traded,

if yours wove itself 

in complement, what

meteors we would be.

Dios, nos cuide.

My sweet hungers crave

beyond, lasting with other men

whose love squares

spare moments.

50. marfa

an original nebraskan

on west texas desert highway

in a white golf 

convertible, holding a camel

between brown fingers

is saying to me

so the cacti are edible

using his brown hands like brushes

air our movie screen.

one warm hand slides down

my spine like water, lights

there on the hills flickering 

with my approval. you

can pay me back for texas

with kisses, he suggests

which i start right away

paying him back for giving me

sky and a day of laughter.

​​i want

he says pausing for effect

two brown fingers and a camel pointing 

​​to be married in Marrakesh.

i had to admit i’d never been there.