Seed for Song

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Acquisitive eyes are blind,
anywhere,
more than half the time.
It is so in the desert,
a place more private,
intimate only with eyes
content both knowing and not knowing.

On the altiplano, paja brava
tuft and riffle like the water
that emerges here and there from sand.
Improbable, indomitable, the grasses and the water,
who host the private lives
of beetles, chinchilla, artemia.

Deserts are never naked,
but in spring, wear their flagrance.
As pimientos give scent,
optunia and flowers blaze.
They expect to be seen,
even in flagrante.

You must more than notice them:
face forward toward the mystery.

Tags: Altiplano, Cactus, Desert, Mystery

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 7th, 2012 at 8:35 pm and is filed under Other Poems & Places, Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.