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!
Dusk here is haloed with desert hues, rough yuccas
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…
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?
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
When I go back to the Midwest
I will protest –
borders, aren’t they horizons?
How now is our summer of discontent?
It is my fourth day in Texas
the sky is wet denim; a glossy palette of earth
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.