�He brings me
down to earth where all poetry begins�
           ~ Elaine Equi


He packs my favorite
cat�s-eye agates on the camel train;

piezoelectric crystal balls
wait tirelessly at the caravanserai

for my tired feet
to arrive. In the meantime he lets

his words drop
and blossom - squid ink in an ocean of rain -

as I lie on the track,
my ear to the rail to listen for buffalo.

My neighbors think me strange.
They watch from the window while polishing

statuettes of patron saints --
ones that protect them from toothaches,

carnies and speculative
love. In their yards, sweet peaches

ferment in neglect
though songbirds welcome the stampede

and I'll use every muscle, tongue
and sinew - leave no headless carcass there to rot.