Heat becomes a god faster than
anything else – agave creeps up, bursting
like a yolk cradled under the tongue.

Walk as far as you can and get nowhere.
Scales thrash; sand unwinds lazily.

It seemed clear at the close of a lengthy conversation,
In the cool heat of late Spring.
We have long mourned,
The colonial appropriation of the ancient East.

you open all the blinds for moonlight
to make a place at your dining table
the radical yellowed pages say “liberty is an illusion”
& you must agree,
crouched on your cold chair in a t-shirt
& underwear. eating tomato soup.

It’s much easier to listen than to be heard,
so I assemble a wide-eyed, open expression,
and shelve all the blaring thoughts
to the dead wood walls of my mind.
I am an expert at starting sentences,
horrendous at finishing them. How can I