The Mojave Desert promised to a transwoman backlit by sunset
Moonflower we’ve yet to witness —/acolytes of any flood that would runnel latent blossoms/over rutted backwaters of sand & sediment.…
Before Reaching Port Byron Under a New Moon
I’m eastbound, west of Syracuse./A pastoral expanse of farmsteads and forests./Fieldbloom and rain.…
After Reading Trakl’s Among the Red Foliage Full of Guitars
I watched the Mojave sun perform its heat/over the abandoned Evening Star Mine.
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