Edit: MOJAVE HEART JOURNAL is no longer with us. The three poems are now shared here now:
a pair of crows
a pair of crows fly overhead and caw
watching lighting clouds track in from the west
but no one here to share with what I saw
holding binoculars doing my best
to find a smoke and get some overtime
or else to go inside and play the rest
of that mandolin piece in 6/8 time
a hummingbird buzzes by the door
and I would really like a glass of wine
and wind and sun on my old skin with more
lightning in the forecast grass dry like straw
seeking fire is what my life is for
with no one here to share with what I saw
a pair of crows fly overhead and caw
Fire lookout with monsoons
The wind is not quite strong enough
to keep the
goddamn flies away
and the soles of my feet are rough
and callused going barefoot every day
just watching clouds from overhead
my mountain moving big and grey
sun turning yellow orange red
and thunder lighting to the east
tho I forget what dispatch said
about tomorrow but at least
there's rain here on my metal roof
to cool things down while others feast
on fire and smoke and ash and get
their hazard pay
me I'm content
with overtime tho I forget
what day it is and/or the
time
just playing my guitar a lot
and singing reading Wittgenstein
and sometimes wearing clothes or not
coyotes yipping down canyon
in Santa Fe the streets glow hot
but there are women there and fun
to fantisize about tho I
am hardly there
and like to run
on flat-ish ground and eat good food
the sound of aspen leaves in wind
the rain has passed
my attitude
to life I try to be content
not think of future or of past
to sleep every night in my tent
forty-seven years went by fast
how long can this part of life last
Ode to the southwest wind
from the Pacific
across the Sonoran Desert
Tucson and Phoenix
between the Superstitions
and Four Peaks
early summer as strong as 30 mph
shaking my tower
humming and moaning through the girders
other times soft and cool
to stand naked out on the catwalk
July pushing moisture up
off the Sea of Cortez
thick anvilhead clouds
building all morning
creating their own wind
and lightning
cloud-to-cloud glowing lines
or sharp cracking ground strikes
passing north over the Mogollon Rim
leaving shattered smoking trees
smoldering in the rain
carry me up and over
and down into Cherry Creek
or Pueblo Canyon
so I could ignite
feed me and make me burn
