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
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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