A swan vexed with
scores to settle, November
swallows the earth.
Mystery is born.
...
On the concrete wall of
a very small bridge over
the Tucson River is scrawled:
...
This word is
a forlorn distant rumbling
from the bowels of hell.
...
Never has a day
been more perfect
for a funeral:
as fresh and clear
...
I realized today
that winter would
not exist without
you, Father.
...
To live is to dream.
Magnificent, glorious, uplifting
dreams of heart-rending beauty
even the saints tremble in awe of.
...
I look into your eyes,
painted with privilege,
and see the history of
the Spanish Inquistion.
...