Sweet name for a new place.
I cruise your supermarket with poetry
in my heart. I finger the Pendleton,
spend a lot of time at the Pendleton blankets,
and if time is money I own a Chief Joseph.
If time is money I sleep in a Best Western
with metal stallions rearing out front…
The corn is singing
all colors of corn are singing
and we are listening.
The sun is singing
the sky is blue singing
to all manner of listening.
The listening when
we don’t even know
we are listening…
Fire season and we walk out of the Lensic
into haze, each street light ringed
like van Gogh or when I first wore
contact lenses. All the glare of air
kept me from vision.
Fire season waiting for monsoon
my husband drives into the mountains
with a friend and her daughter, daughter of
the woman I saw in the ground, can’t talk about it
but after these weeks of smoke
rest in peace has a different ring to it.