August 7
99 degrees in Albuquerque today.
Skin feels like clothing.
Cicadas and crickets….
This is a summit with out a lover
where air gets thick and spacious
and humanness drives my interactions.
Old jeans and cut up shirts with no bra
there is a beauty growing thru me
and I can’t imagine loving any home more
than this one.
With its soft edges and 400 sq feet,
wood floors and neighbours who shuffle around
in the drive way drunk during the night.
I sit at my desk alone, next to the over grown aloe plant
curtain half pulled to let in wind.
Shadows and nostalgia for what is…
Remembering for the future
the fan blows what the wind can’t carry
Erased from your mind
I begin to wonder if muse is simply something
I need.
Why else these reoccuring thoughts of how
I could have loved you?
Try to bring edges to a flame.
Light casting shadow
the heat and mystery consumed
like stars consumed by sky
ravenous at times.