Friday, January 20, 2006

Digging in the Past

Paseo del Vulcan and the Double Eagle Airport

Between desert and sand
stripped down to mesa dust
we lie plane bathing
droning our sins in silence
erupting from sacred mountains
of long-dead fire.
from Bill Hocker, photographer
Him clouded uncertainty
clad in perfection
reserved for the shallow or lost
me pulsated yearning
like ants marching across Mexican weave
toward home.

The two of us salt-lick borders
where skin to skin our touch buzzes
frequency unmapped
connection unchartered
but richless
destined to fly away home.

He says you will burn.
I say brown is better.
We shade ourselves
with all we cannot say
fan ourselves with the flame
of our burning-out love.


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