I’ve been taught chocolate cosmos hypnotize the bumble bee’s ado,

can stop the bleeding of my pale ears alone in the

swollen night—we pleasure to hurt,

my wheel of big-leaf hydrangeas turning, blue mottled pink,

its seeds asleep in the blurry mist, millennia ago and onward,

till a flash flood bolts the arroyo, tripping them 

with the smiling sandworts & they remember what their god

whispered before conceding to the jaspers

of his desires: Wake up and ache for your life.

the July sky shakes in this salt-stained

dream that glows with red passion:

arise the wild phacelia, scorpion weed, that shoves the bruised rings

of its collapsing petals down the throat

of marsh, of war, of the tiger’s belly,

begging for rain to come & alleviate their sins.

I am in the dirt for you—

but there must be another way for these yarrows to bloom.

like gravity, we sink into our burrows of qualm

and wonder how we got there in the first place;

My war never ended but somehow renews again. ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​