Corrugated
Air Coyote moon — howling disrespect
Clichés across the desert sand and echoes on the hightop mesa.
Rusted and corroded iron-projections
Curving forth from machinery beneath the camera's eye.
Cloud patterned dust bowl skies speeding up their temporal passage
As the eagle soars just above the sun, talons burning into the land.
Stretched out color changing shape shifting iguana spirit,
Cactus and earth, the Mother's lamenting cries pass empty
Across Man's sleeping body.
Sagebrush bristles of steel and peyote juices — the driest kind
Scattered liberally about the cracked and baked hard dust.
The family parked by the desolate roadside sells turquoise and blankets;
Though no one goes here — at least they never actually, truly, fully arrive.
The party started at dawn with the cracks above the horizon orange and yellow,
A half-sleepy morning dream trying to wake itself up.
Lizards uncurled and flowers opened their buds; the ancestral dance circled
Round the deserted ruins, light stabbed at the hearts of mail-order kiosks,
As the sand dunes play reed pipes and on them archaic tunes.
About this time the coyote slumps off to bed under a joshua tree.
Heat waves and the desert haze, someone may be seeking visions,
On the distant mesa, someone enters into the maze.