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
