The world is filled with darkness. I miss the jackrabbits and quail. I miss my father Holding my daughter, As he once held me. I'm from a city of drifters. Pink oleanders blossom under palm trees.
Irrigation ditches fill.
Like a stationary boulder In a moving river, the native soil is desperate and exotic. I try to connect, To catch them. This fruit sows only grass And unsteady seed. This fruit pulls me To your hands, my fingers, a path in a deep forest Leading to another forest. Recognition drifts slowly as the chanting of the trees Increases.