The hills collapse in sun
And re-attach
To the crystal straits
With the merest breeze.
It flashes so fast
The tourists won't
Pick it up, this
Burning coin in the sand.
~~
There's something permanent
In these rocks
Despite the shadows
And the constant change
Of Being therein,
Duende to sober
To sharper than nails
-- Kindness is only implied
Far away from the visitors
Smiles.
~~
Scorpion spiders,
The conversation moves
Like the wind,
The bathers play
Like the waves,
The children float
On sunswept clouds
As if they are
From there.
~~
The singing crocodile
Mourns the unbuilt
Foundation,
The tire gardens,
The over-dessicated lawns
That disappear in an instant
To oblivion,
Where everything lives.
~~
The rock returns
As if it never left,
But nothing was here
In dirt-road 1974
Or yesterday.
~~
The desert sun
Denies there is a
Material world
And no philosopher
Will stand in
Against it
Today.
~~
Boats
Another planet away,
People laughing
From a distant nebula --
The pink that surrounds
This silent dome
The only thing that's real.
~~
The black swans
dead
The peacock
dead,
The aviary thinning,
Cheryl dying
Yet the bougainvillea
shows its
immortality.
~~
Baja Sur
as inhospitable as the earth
can be
And we come --
It holds the mother's
fortune cards
and never says a thing --
We call that healing.
