DiaBLOGue

Father Sky/Mother Earth

I am turning the irrigation water 
Into my garden 
It’s two in the afternoon 
The reddening tomatoes jerk up, widen their eyes

How She Comes

Like a storm rowing in. All around tree limbs stagger,
weeds lie flat. Wind and sun like familiars, 
canyons nesting in the shadows. Bright feet 
never touching down, while the air boils behind her

Martyrs

A brigade of ants marching over torsos 
cast in bronze. The mouths that cannot speak 

Like the Rose

For Baldomero and Adeena  My real name is Carlos, but ever since I turned eight everyone calls me Charlie. That’s the name I received from Allen and Johnson, the first two Mormons who ever set…