the seam between desert and night
glows pastel to neon to clear blue light
arizona
Poem of the April Palo Verde
Yellow.
Freaking.
Everywhere.
Shrewd
cactus is not cruel
it is just so damn thirsty
you’d be prickly too
Idling
lizard of leisure
idler in sun — bird shadow
how quickly he moves
Arizona sunsets
“If I tint these pages with too many sunsets, it is not from unawareness of my weakness, but because without them a description of Arizona does not describe. In the afternoon hours, between four and eight, the country wakes and glows, and has its moment, like a woman whose youth was plain but whom middle age has touched with charm and mystery.”
—Winifred Hawkridge Dixon, Westward Hoboes: Ups and Downs of Frontier Motoring, 1921
Summer saguaro
With fruity-fingered arms, I hug the sky.
