Still not out of hope one day to
see her country … Close now,

Simplistic, domineering,
recapitulating, flesh
wants flesh to last.

This says less about the road, or baths, or loss,
than it does about movement, how still a road

Is it always each color dirty its own way?

I came from life from living I arrived

Nowhere     in the midst of God     in the midst of God

God is a city      in which no one has ever lived

squirrel killer 
predawn snacker 
keeper of a card-table office in the garage 

Nobody lives
above me,

In a deep well I swung a pickax
into packed caliche, so dark I aimed the ax
by feel. My brother leaned back safe

In another parched summer,
Comancheros gone, we rock
on the screened back porch, fanning,

The first time we ever quarreled
You were cutting an onion
In the kitchen of our rented cottage.