Querétaro state by bus, a ripe sunset, pastel trucks, corn fields and sun-bleached rocks. No country has the exact same color of dust. This is already a new life, new eyes. The old highway winds through high desert, fat-paddled cacti, unknown birds, a dark cloud to the North feathering out, the night, halcón, the wistful sky, lindo, listo, ready to take flight
torrents of rain the hour before departure jewel-tone leaves against a wash of gray the sky gives no hint of time or day leaving I am already a little gone already the cobalt jay catches my eye a promise of color color y calor
After a fall the margins of a bruise, lilac, ugliness is only contextual. How quickly a state changes, at full speed and then fallen, been befelled, complanate, decumbent, laughing at the slick night, no pain, yet, just awareness, again, of sublimation– run, ran, running– of location relative to the hard dark plane of sky.
OPTIONAL POETRY 