Postcards from Agave:
Poems I left for the post office.
My fellow poet –
Today I hiked that purple mountain majesty, what an achy earth
Hey, you –
I hum to the radio static on drives now
probably because I obey daily my cravings for fajitas and Coke.
Oh, to eat in pink adobe!
Dearest –
Dusk here is haloed with desert hues, rough yuccas
punctuated across
the landscape soaked in indigo oils, gold
all shades of when it was August –
My eyes trace these rocks.
I lean back in my seat, writing…
Reader –
God, the sky here! It’s as if I am in a cave with a flashlight.
Above me are ancient lights, horoscopes
I wonder what this sky spoke before Spanish?
Darling –
In the café at Marfa, again
Mexican chocolate and earthy drops of latte
the tongue is happy
The winds curve around the mountains as I read
and sip
Dear –
When I go back to the Midwest
I will protest –
borders, aren’t they horizons?
Dear –
How now is our summer of discontent?
It is my fourth day in Texas
the sky is wet denim; a glossy palette of earth
cicadas sun-kissing
the agave blossoms ripe
all in vibrating yellows –
On Monday I will climb down the mountains to swim the Gulf of Mexico
and then I return to Iowa City for the last days of June.
