the gruesome mess of our circuitry

swish sound of raven wings
slicing air above while i
warrior one
and triangle
on slatted front porch
fingertips reaching to sky
_______
sound sequence: first thunder
then rain on corrugated metal tree fort roof
then hail
_______
apache plume
flowering along road
whose fluff and color remind me
of mimosa tree blossoms
_______

liana yelling out car window
waving her arms git-get outta the road
to two collarless dogs taking
themselves for a walk
_______

a series of disappointments she says
headed riverwards
it’s as if we each lift up a flap of our flesh/fabric
to expose for moments
the gruesome mess of our circuitry
_______
it’s called cleve-ball i say
attempting to toss pebbles into sports bra
while the rio grande
(cool, fast, high and emeraldish) ripples past
_______

like having a secret language i say
about sisters to which sancho agrees
and we discuss which parts of our cancerness, pisceanness
and scorpioness we relate to and how
_______

quality of life debbie says talking about
the predicted oregon/washington/northern cali
tsunami/earthquake
before she shares with us the
cottonwood leaf and gingko leaf
carved into cherry wood she got
from a man she met on the internet
_______
i can’t not eat a carbohydrate
that’s sitting in front of me debbie says about
sancho’s home-baked english muffins while
liana and i san peligrino sip and
burrito chomp
_______
they call it the horseshoe she says
about the section of canyon-curve highway
her friend’s dad (and so many ohters) died on
_______
night-sky stopover
we step out of cool ant to take in
constellations
and do a few slow dance moves
we waist-grab and neck-tilt to take it all in
before she tells me to let go
(i slump) and twirls and bends me
there might be a metaphor here
_______

wherein i apply
generous amounts of vitamin e oil
across her nose bridge
her cheek rounds
her chin curve
_______
heart-shaped junk store candle
casting dim glowwe move soft slow

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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