to you horse
Sappho 87F


the backslash of boundary unjust

and not only for its drainage

of green


California the fingers

sustaining the weight of pressing nation

its back in knotted muscle

claims all the names of proximity

Oceanside, — Beach, — Beach, — Beach


meanwhile what of Tucson and hubris

ranging deeper

our mountains all the bodies

holding yarn cat’s cradle over the desert

where maybe a hare looks skyward once

and wonders if the strings flying

over the peaks will this

time mean water or air