The weather has changed. The sights and smells of a new season bring with them memories of seasons past. That was the inspiration for this Typewriter Rodeo poem.
Terlingua, TX
December 21, 2019
Give me a minute
longer to collect
the blanket from the white dirt.
I don’t care what the stars
say, I am nothing
but a ball of burning
skin in close proximity
to neither sky
or the center of this
hard, hot planet.
This is the first time
I am meeting the dust
in my bones
& the atoms of Eve’s womb.
Look how they fall
down, still trying to find
paradise – an oasis
bowl between the mountains.
