Saturday, October 29, 2011

Organs & Dark Meat

My favorite chicken has thick skin,
four thighs, four legs, four wings, 
four lungs, two livers, two gizzards, 
six hearts, & one head on one long neck. 
The hearts live in its throat. The lungs 
inside its wings propel perpetual flight. 
If I can catch it, before I chop off its head
it lays one golden egg that hatches a clone
that matures in seven days to be plump
& juicy for my favorite Sunday dinner.

Friday, October 28, 2011

Taxonomy

The morning hue thickens to overcast, &
desperate ants chaw the jasmine vine.
Ah how the desert hums, how it sucks damp
chemistry from air. To chasten a possum

involves a dumb whistling. Find my first
blossom with bold names in it. The sun aims
low like a sniper. Blessing counting blessing,
between shots I hone the weeder to wire.

Teacher, I am an outcast icon, dangling loose
upon my flail, & the standins for anything
less mortal have finally surrendered. What
is this gardening, this unkempt row, scorched &

excommunicating the thistle seed? We twitch to
the Hootchie Cootchie. Taxonomy was once a clone.

Zephyranthes candida, aka azucenita del río, Fairy Lily, White Rain Lily

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Panicum virgatum

Shall I call it switchgrass
or tall panic grass – the place
I hide when gauchos gallop 
onto our ranch bearing
the cowhide of last night’s dinner?

What of blackbent 
or Wobsqua grass – 
should I imagine a wobbling 
or an obsequious squaw? or a bent-
backed, dark-skinned blade?

Panicum virgatum
sounds to me like a virgin panicking 
faster than she can run
from an evil vir lusting after 
her thatchgrass.

Mostly I long
for end of season when green
ripens to brown &
everyone, knowers of grasses or not,
labels it wild redcap.



Tuesday, October 25, 2011

The Finish

Stone dust rises & falls, 
glue twitches my nose & eyes,
noises destroy my focus.

The electrician’s icepick 
probes the concrete walls for 
conduit-carrying wires.

Flies arrive
through open windows & doors
without screens. 

From the garage 
a saw whines along a line 
penciled on granite.

Supervisors boast
bright shirts & telephones,
workers wear sweat-stained brown.

The plumbed rooms 
throng with masons 
fitting & glueing countertops.

We set out for a walk, wishing 
the work would finish
& let us be.

vanity: unplumbed

Monday, October 24, 2011

Accessorizing

An Argentine-artisan-
woven placemat 
of orange & purple 
& green protects 
the polished wood 
lapacho – of our large
dining table next
to the ottoman-access-
orized red chairs 
at the north end of 
our great room, painted 
yellow & orange 
& pink, floored
in orange tile, a room that 
becomes a kitchen, 
painted pink & yellow 
& green, inside the 
house painted 
the same green – green 
of Alpine flora, 
growing high 
in the Andes above 
our desert brown.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

When I Need to Walk

when anger mutes me
when the mewing cat steps toward me
when people close to me start to fight
when ozone fills the humid air
when I know the slightest word would wound
when roadkill stains the side of the highway
when hunger drives me from my hotel
when I spot ripe blackberries along dusty gravel roads
when revenge schedules demolition derbies in my brain
when a body of water shimmers at a distance
when we've finished dinner & guests want to sit & talk
when seals surface only yards off the beach
when people call meetings to find consensus
when the owl's chiding tells me I'm too close to its underground nest
when I exit the jetway after long hours of flight
when a bridge crosses a river where snakes & turtles might sun
when someone turns on television
when a wild animal walks away across a field
when people talk about shopping
when dawn pales the bedroom light

What Beings

sheets whip the line in the warm parched air of desert spring

mountain peaks layer in varying grays like ink paintings
some are snow-capped, some greening, some spiraling smoke

dust-colored caterpillars vault from sand to post to vine

chimango hawks rise twenty or more from the half-green field,
one ferries a branch in its beak to a high & hidden nest

after rain I smell earth & grasses, snowmelt courses a rock chase

eleven horses (two at least carrying colts) water at a concrete tank,
graze in alfalfa higher than hocks, idle head to haunch in shade

beetles climb my hair, circle my sleeve: what beings tend my sleep?

mountain peaks layer . . . chimango hawks rise


snowmelt courses a rock chase