I first saw it in the scolding Senora Desert,
When the bats descended enmasse to pollinate the saguaros,
Flittering over my nighthead, curious as mammals can be,
But posing no threat. I rather welcomed their
Vision of catastrophic gloom.
But the rocky lava overhead pulled in my attention;
It was a place for keeps: a place worthy of return.
I spied the spring, so that meant a dismal man could
Live out his years there.
It smoldered in black poetic;
I would return to it soon and for good.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem