Sun-chapped, vermillion gravel lines the Arizona interstate. The smell of civil anticipation of draught conditions.
De-ride derision. Re-sent. De-ridden. Hostile.
Regurgitate…come here, baby bird.
Under my wing where the sun does not scream.
like wild things run fast.
I run so quickly it looks as though I am lazy.
Because, I smiled all the time, my narrowed eyes confuse.
Rode hard but not to be
Put up wet.
I asked him not to say things that seem to be true.
A certain gaze becomes requisite.
A dis-focus agile like a cacti forest.
Look for the invisible shrub-brush. The one that may or may not actually be there.
When you see that you do not see it, you will know you’ve got off on
The good foot.
So scratch, scratch pen to paper. Then take tips to keyboard.
Pleas. If you cannot silence your mouth, write it instead. For yourself.
Spit yourself upon the page.
See what floats.
Mercury corresponds here, where air is the element?
Striations of stratifications.
I am not what you expect, because I am not as you’ve known me to be.
Newly transmuted. I let my stomach gnaw on it’s own emptiness.
Acclimation. Deceleration of mass.
A bob becoming weightless, still tethered to a Flagstaff.
Asphalt lanes crisscross terrain like varicose veins.
Little, red blood cell cars traverse. Scrub-brush grows on either side.
Entering Sedona. The elevation changes. Ears pop.
The energy comes on before you fully make it to the valley.
Invigoration as my heart beat hastens, my skin quickens.
I feel my circulation pulsing.
We are told to Be Prepared to Stop.
We are stopped.
My father acclimatizes to the energy but not the dry air.
My sister fidgets with her fingers in her mouth.
My mom crossed and uncrosses her hands. Fingers tapping on top of knuckles.
The four of us seem far too old to be in a car on a road trip. We do not mind.
Joe Cocker. Feeling Alright plays on FM.
Sharp. The energy is sharp. It will hone you.
Make you diabolical, I giggle.
I feel you giggle against my ear. Echoed back to me despite your absence.
Despite your presence on another curve on another side of the world
I magnetize you to my mind’s eye.
There is a church situated in an open expanse. Nothing surrounding on its acre.
There even an atheist might easily see some god.
The orange and red rest easy in my eyes.
Like short pants slung low on hip bones.