under desert november

not assault
but there is something about making it to the end of
each chapter of this book
(blue gold; the fight to stop the corporate theft of
the world’s water by maude barlow and tony clarke)

without completely losing it
(following fact after hopeless fact)
_______
a skeleton, a manuscript
a hankie and a book
tied together with a home made card
sealed in manila envelope
postmarked pdx
(WHAT’S UP, A.M.!!!)
_______
pinning laundry to line
under desert november sun
while a construction worker across the way
lays out for a rest on the hinged open tailgate
red beanie bright
_______
from here i can hear
the high school’s marching band
drum sounds moving across
crisp clear-cold night
_______
with the mug of whiskey sips
and the roaming from casita to casita
and a pack of us
it’s like college i say dorms
_______
the myth goes
that the black bear
at the bacon first
then the woman that was cooking it in her kitchen
_______
everything one could name draped
with moonlight
our noses
the rounded edges of adobe at the sides of the road
even the sound of five sets of footsteps
cemetery on our right
morada and sacred mountain ahead
walking towards the seam
where the edge of town
overlaps with the edge of pueblo land
we come here just to see/feel it
in lunar light
_______
11:13 i guess
on our way home
up/down the speed humps
on burch street
11:09 regina reveals

_______

from the water world:

584A7D6D-3207-4881-B001-8510159A4C58_w974_n_s
An Indian Sikh devotee takes a dip in the holy sarover (water tank) at the Golden Temple in Amritsar.  – voice of america, day in photos

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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