inroads

I.     morning

skin
then,
is only half-
an in

II.   flesh

cut a slow
path, – it’s a heart,
you know

III.  sunlight

the way is
opened,
brought to light

IV.   knees

have we
but a beggar’s prayer?

::

15: NaPoWriMo

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The Drive Back

The drive back to school takes 3 1/2 to 4 hours.
3; if you’re foot’s heavy like Mom’s brother, Shawn.
There’s barely any blue between the clouds today
And what’s peeking through is a new shade of white.
Yellow mustard weed fringes both highway shoulders
And it’s crowded going either way on the 5.
I’m driving; making small talk with mom look easy.
Hey, the current on Pyramid Lake looks different.
Looks like stretch marks, Mom says.
Ya? I wouldn’t know.
We’re chugging up the Grapevine now. Come on, baby.
The car’s as old as me, but mom still trusts it to cut
Through Tejon Pass and Grimes Canyon Road where we
Read other people’s words etched in sandstone cliffs.
“Mom (in a ♥), I Love Jesus, I Love KK.” That’s cool.
But us scaling Vasquez’s rocks last week was better.

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Tuesday’s Platform for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

On A Back Road

I knew that this was right. The old farmer’s truck
Carrying the new. Moving 55 mph through Avenal’s cut-
Off road. A slow blinker slices through a dust cloud.
And I’m braking. Hung up behind this haul, and close
Enough to really see the life on the tires, the body,
the bumper. The dichotomy between the upper and lower
Deck. And I know this is the old man carrying the new.
And I’m thinking about this for the next forty-five
Miles… and years, because it’s so goddamned right.

 

For Play it Again, Toads! [truck, road, dust cloud, years]