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2003


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2004


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Aguirre Springs, New Mexico

April, 1999


The day on the desert mountainside
and on that black licorice night
I felt like Picasso’s women
put forth abstractly

Fragmented bellies and breasts

So there was the one spot
the pulse of
creation, the womb, the heart
you by instinct touched
with a boy’s wonderment

I imploded
hid it within

knew your soul was full

But through material planes
you were but an abundant spring
lush greenery without
our monuments of time

The thought still pricks me
like insouciant cacti

Intrude me
once more and again
for I knew of you

before this story was known
before the world
was even told

about how we met
at the stream
very dry and thirsty



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