I Counted Thirty-Three Candles

​

I blew at thirty-three candles.

My turn on the cross came

when the saguaro

encircled my boyhood

and left me hanging limp.

​

The desert giant

scarred by the elf owl

hiding in your womb

stood over six feet tall

when I was only thirty-three. 

The javelina stuck . . .

​Camping Together

​

Traveling below Hutch Mountain

on the Mongollon Rim, I hunt

for the herd of javelina

to share cactus wine and song.

The ashes cold within a ring of rocks

burn my knees as I sift

through my fingers the charcoal of the past.

Enticed by the warmth,

i pursue the tracks among the pines.

Her next bed pressed against . . .

​

​

​

​

​

  Students

​

I have polished my pearls

Until they resemble

Grains of salt.

Can I flavor your life?

Only you can sing the songs.

Can I take you on a merry-go-round

Of the seven wonders of the world?

My voice will blend with the others

And you will write the solo.