birthday cake leftovers for breakfast
birthday cake leftovers for lunch
pirates have such good style
i say to jonathan
from the patch of sun in which i sit
in response to his photo
of alexander in stripes on stripes
accessorized by an eye patch
the care with which irina
places warm towels under my neck
lays them across my collarbones
swaddles my perma-cold feet
draws an image of
an age-old story
of washing the feet of
the downtrodden
on our walk to the plaza
(which i always incorrectly call the square)
to catch ghostly gobliny glimpses
i explain to mara how sometimes
the pressure from the massage was so deep and sharp
that the route the pain traveled
rendered visible (behind closed eyelids) the network-of-nerves shape
x-ray-less x-ray
Pan the waitor in
tight bike shorts and tail
i say something about
how refreshing it is to see a
a (presumed) cis-male
clad scantily and working it
on halloween
over mugs of spiked/spiced cider
in casita #4
we carry on the neverending joke
about the mystery whistler
and add a few new ones
including (but not limited to)
the twurlitzer and the
the screamy tooters

this is what 39 looks like


IMG_5311 IMG_5315   IMG_5325 IMG_5329 IMG_5332 IMG_5336


IMG_5337 IMG_5346 IMG_5347 IMG_5353 IMG_5355 IMG_5361 IMG_5368 IMG_5390

images missing:

a million various singings/versions
of the birthday song
some of which i sing along to myself
(happy birthday to me)

the neverending
screamy loud tooters joke
which becomes the trail name
that the group of us adopt


sistermoon rising up over the ridge
to hang with us
on our way down the trail


misosuri leaves, marigolds and zinnias
bursting from a mail-fetched box

birthday cake [mara’s chocolate caramel cheesecake] candle glow
illuminating brilliant spirits and their brilliant faces
gathered around the birthday feast table


the day somehow
begins and ends
with nirvana’s all apologies
playing on the local radio station

and is marked in the middle by
 the appearance of leaf heaps
mini mountains
near the office

medium-to-large short-haired white dog on dolan street
waggly tail and sweet eyes
greets me for a morning exchange
on my run towards and away from
taos mountain


some soft kindness in the
eyes of the leaf-blower wielding man
who pauses and motions good morning
as i run and motion back


tom and i compare
passport-format photos
laughing and wishing ourselves/each other luck

eat your words

sun on the soles of my bare feet
as patches of refracted light
(in rainbow form)
rotate across casita walls
something akin to being inside a snowglobe
crisp crunch of sun-gleaming leaves
encountering tree trunks
adobe walls
other leaves
on their swirl from sky down
(a swell of gratitude
to mama nature
for tossing this gilded confetti
in celebration of her scorpio creatures)
there’s much to learn from those who’ve studied
the great silent places
the person on the radio says while
discussing the sounds of denali alaska
that’s still one of the best weekends of my life
shiz and i laugh recounting the
gluten tag morning
(me clutching gigantic pastry
in the fancyland kitchen
after an all-out  
queers in the woods
with paper and pens
you eat your words someone at the table says
about tom (but more about his australian accent)
while someone else says natacha spits her words out
(french accent)
though it’s not quite like spitting – more of an attentive removal, vowel by vowel

gently suspended

i ask regina
if she’s ever released a paper lantern
while we stand amongst
the shadows and colors and
flame-burst sounds

(when one spends the morning
watching brightly colored
gently suspended giants
ascend into clear fall-crisp
desert mountain sky
how can the rest of the day
that unfolds before them
not be made of magic and light)
the smile i flash
must be a dazzler
because of the dazzle the mandolin player shoots back
of band in the plaza at the final farmer’s market of the season
playing that one song i know so well because
of how many times i heard trish, darien and jon
going through it (on banjo, accordion and guitar) it
in the next room over
or on the porch
or on the mini la casa stage
in a room full of swirling IMG_5139 IMG_5152 IMG_5154 IMG_5157 IMG_5129 IMG_5179 IMG_5173 IMG_5172 IMG_5163 IMG_5184 IMG_5233 IMG_5252 IMG_5295



sweating with duncan
and his kickass yoga
8something a.m.
this one’s for you, mica
somehow i encounter
the sangre de cristo mountains
and mentions of acequias
in one of the water books
i read two years ago
while perched and writing atop
the ogalalla aquifer
having not yet met either
(the sangres or acequias)
there is something (magic)
about re-encountering them in print
having now taken them into my blood
(the sangres as seen from the land of the teapot and mitten
as the sun lifts itself up over them
and crawls across the red/pink sage-dotted sandscape
the acequias as seen atop the schwinn
or from the front seat of debbie and liz’s car
while they explain their significance)
there is a difference
between reading the name of a range of mountains
one has never encountered
and coming across the name of a range of mountains
one has rendezvoused with at sunrise
and knowing their energy
their shape
and they way they help tell you which direction is whic
pedaling up burch
sun lowering so that its light is caught
in gold-leaf (street-lining canopy)
how that intense yellow
changes the color/quality of light as it lands
on the two people walking
on the other side of the road
thank you for being at my side
i speak into sage-laced air
towards peaks rising
from the folds of taos mountain
while her sky-shawl shifts colors
along a powdery purple/blue spectrum
i’m taking a birding-by-ear class
t-birds voice comes in
via satellite

shadow shift

several oldies
from a particularly good
thursday morning set:
blue on blue
joe joe (get back)
wake up little susie
sugar oh honey honey
michael, stepping through doorway
holds out/hands me
a brown handled bag
holding a brown takeout box
holding two chocolate croissants
light and shadow shift on kitchen wall
looks like a hand plucking leaves
but when i turn to see
no human is there
following an eclipse update from florida
(solar, 2-3pm mountain time)
i thank sledge
for the double visitation
this particular desert/fall eclipse light
on yellow leaves and the
bark of trunks
and all of that against a sky
whose particular blueness
(same particular blueness jonathan noted
after a day of raking up
what hte wind had pulled down
[future soil])
there’s a point sheryl says
where you have to move forward
rather than trying to accommodate everyone
soup in mid-production in the pot
something about the thick of the dark
(stars surfacing)
walking the 1/8th block down
los panditos
a slow shuffle on the gravel
relishing the velvet of hindered vision
you nurture your creative work
you nurture the land
and activism is a form of caretaking
regina says
connecting the dots from
all those stuffed animals i took care of
to now
wherein i say fred savage
while meaning dan savage
and continue to get mileage
out of this throughout the
new moon night

A golfer hits a tee shot as African migrants sit on a border fence in an attempt to cross into Spanish territories between Morocco and Melilla – bbc, day in photos

hitching swiftly

plump gray clouds
in patches
passing over sun
and hitching swiftly east
perched in plastic chair
in the alfalfa patch
a book about rivers open
in my lap
orangeyellow leaves land
on my shoulder
in my hair
graze my cheek and
glance my knee
on their dance down
black ink bleeding
on left hand
naming intersections and
left/right turns
by now, the coppery schwinn 7-speed
should have a name
the goal: to ride down every street on the map
(the map in which swirls of leaves
ridden through
or patches of sun
spilled down on
or the views of mountains
the schwinn and i rotate around
are not indicated)
the sound of an acequia stream
(somewhere between a trickle and a rush)
off the rio fernando
gates lifted
water glinting
messages passed via satellite
from one desert mountain town
to another and back again
a reunion in the either
it’s not the first time
the word nomad
is used in reference to me
but perhaps the first time
the word lovely
has been placed in front of it


from the water world:


 A Christian pilgrim dips in the water at the baptismal site known as Qasr el-Yahud on the banks of the Jordan River, which also acts as a border line near Jordan near the West Bank city of Jericho. – voice of america, day in photos