New Mexico, Easter Sunday, Late

there’s desire

              ringing incantations

              cold

over horizons

              hollow

                            (is there surface

                              on the crow’s wing

                              is

the desert bird

              gone

like all meaning

There was a day, it’s been said,

there will be a day, when this all makes sense  sense

no longer possible,

sense is surface shifting like a dune

is that too easy? well, the only good game is fixed

this

has always been a matter of conjecture

this

has always been a target

from Greetings From Tucson

written Spring 2003