We come into the canyon as particles

Rocks striated nearly vertical with color

Through hills pressed up from beneath the crust

Past a checkpoint where we refused to provide evidence of our nationality

This much desert always asks silence 

A hawk sweeping the sky

My skin torn by the recurved thorns of a silver cactus

Blood meets canyon rock stitching us together

For music only the velocity of a fly’s wings and the wind rushing 

Through the canyon as if a voice sounding

Of waves flow rock and wind and the dark water of my body

This moon seen in shards

As in history we are denied an entire picture

Appears then a figure my interlocutor interlocked

What does the shattered perhaps assemble

He wants to see my papers I will not provide

How to reconcile how two bodies fit together 

After all this time who is allowed to be alive what does it mean to be alive

Who spoke in breath to guide

In pines or stone among ghosts that chime

This time dear hand you held and

When the sun did the moon cross we cross

The river a cloud so cactus-

Pierced in a flower of blood

You were found

Should I reach through years departed

Those days with a mother recede further into the past

From my self un knowing 

Another self

A car driving the long

Drive through knowledge but how

Do we know when marked and asked

I can not explain

We void all answers because in ancient agony the body does die

One body laps at the borders of another

With no other purpose but to give pleasure

Rain grime along the floral pattern of the canyon floor

Some kind of flower marked by scrap of sky

I silver-streaked fled through rivered cant

What I left behind I cannot thank yet

Far from home one does soon learn

How to sea

A letter came an interruption

Told two coasts of time between

That is as fragments always

Sounds out of synch with history

Whine and moan of tuneless drift

The call to prayer at the Sufi dargah

Slide guitar 

Gullah holler

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Our time in the inside year 

Or was it a closed year or a closet year

Yet I lived into width offered by ocean by sand

Spring to spring simultaneous

A California of time not yet undone

And fever that passes in panes of light

The sky brushed in pause

Stripes of heat the Santa Ana shook

Pricked I am stitched to ground and god

Without the consonant of fate love does plunge

As light through a canopy of forest

Is this how I will stay in the world

Where wind is noticed in the shape of earth 

In icicle or branch or meander of river

Do you follow sound or light

The falt is gathered is fluid flute in felt sound out flet’s fault

Which actually touches

What is falt flet fate

Who without the written can speak

Who with only vowels can love

From ice and time I grew but why

Born across borders

I sigh my name in the language of 

Wind or crime or ruin

I in the spaces between stake my claim

Yet heard a thread said

Could there be wind that sang

Swain lain in these years filled

I heard song wollen that swell

Water what him woolen we fain

Would fill feel fail no flail

Long I have been spired spurred poor spoor poured

And lost in time time

Suspended suspiring there I swung

And swerve will you find in wind

Will you join me will you fasten

Could you then swear or say sing slang along 

Oar or ower now I am yore now moreover 

I am your rower I am your raw war ower

Your ore crying until worlds end your woe 

your aura your oar your roaring aurora a rawer rawr

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