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


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