What do you say
To the face of the land
When it’s trying to kill you
With it’s beautiful browns
And seventies greens
Some say
Come here
Little spike
Offering
Their hand
In support
The way you can find
Something to drink
A why of wood in your
Shaky palms, the trees
Skating the washes
The mesquite blown
Hairy in the wind
One way
To trace
Sleep into
A building
Is by laying
Still – your
Body even
An outline
The saguaro’s
Skin means
Business and it is
Hollow—a knock
Full of birds
This airstream hunched
At the base of the catalinas
Is only the notion of something
Free contained in a vast
And contemptuous plane
And it is all so true
(also)
intotheheadland 