sometimes unrecognizeable

rock stacks i call them
cairns she calls them
my friends she says
byrd baylor i mention
while we wind along the arroyo
that leads us to the mesa-top
something about them i say
but something especially about them here
where other humans rarely pass through
_______
melissa and i sip matcha
and fig-newton snack
on her front desert-landscape-view porch
do you have any cargo she asks
meaning stuff i ask back
and then mention that san diego garage shelf
_______
sunset walk (towards the sangres this time
a wrapping around the mitten)
we call out the punchline at the same time
hey, peter, i can see your house from here
laughing our way down
oyster fish kitty trail
past golding wild asparagus
_______
this land must be changing shape all the time
i say/ask thinking about how it’s all
made of sand
and melissa talks about how the light
changes it too
makes the old familiar sometimes unrecognizeable
_______
genocided worse debbie says
in the curving highway dark
to talk about how bad it was
(in comparison to others – if we
even can compare) for the
apaches
_______
they describe the mountain god dance
the face covering
the cute kid cooing/laugh sounds
the headpiece and the
strength it must take to
dance under the weight of it
_______
how the cota
invited liz and debbie to take
and how they leave stalks
for me on my little kitchen table
_______
IMG_4700 IMG_4702 IMG_4707

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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