Since I mentioned Nogales, I have another poem that--
from a series of four poems called "Figures."
The title "Figures"--
I guess I thought of them as poem, painting, something
like that--
word pictures.
Actually, it was the last poem I wrote for the book.
And it's the last poem of the Western section.
Book's divided into three seconds.
The last poem was the Western section.
And I want to read number two.
It was a transition in style.
I was getting into something different, which my new poems
which I'll be reading soon will reflect.
It's a carrying of the image for a longer amount of time.
"Where the rotted agave's clear tequila
serves as lubricant or antiseptic,
the dark eyes of the live ones who keep their families
in the hills.
One standing at a bar window.
Night rouge blending to rich skin, set off
an orange lace against black hair and fine Castilian
features, fixes the walker in the street
with cold onyx Indian eyes, knowing in their 20s
as if the window mirrored street framed an artist's masterpiece.
Life's in astrain, and the color white for martyrs and virgins."