this desert is worse than the others: yelow harlot, or during the brightest points of the afternoon a reminder of the infinite she last felt at twenty-two, or like a mousecarcass and the dwelling people with theirvulture eyes: here is the truth of out-here America, puremoral rot. and yet I would like to take out… Continue reading poem: comet
Tag: the West
poem: my mother has done everything
She is two-stepping in an Arizona bar with some old-timer, the walls hung with adobe, tassels, turquoise bracelets for sale and the stereo bleeding out early 90's country-folk. The Indians at the bar are leaning in, stoically awed by the way this city girl already has the West in her eyes. She will not… Continue reading poem: my mother has done everything
the last pavilion 