Poet Laundry

  after a restful night’s sleep, i woke to soft rain, the rap of a bird on the pane—like music spun for a chorus of play— instead ...

  Like dropped white petals in the Colonel’s yard, lie wing bones and feathers—   cat, coyote, or desert skunk, having taste...

  A thousand trees from sunset, each with a hand held out our windows   cupping an apricot wind, a warm pine breeze combs through ou...

  It’s more than a place, it’s a calling— where red hibiscus, and pink, too, blush the air with their kisses.   This old Spani...