This is probably the first time that I
have done a reading in another desert area.
So usually I take time to talk about my desert.
But I wouldn't dream of doing that in Dick Shelton's
territory because I think that you all
have been exposed to a very strong love
of the desert in his work.
So I am going to skip that part.
But I do want to do a set of poems about the desert.
And the first one I'll certainly dedicate to Janice Monk,
"Unrefined."
"The desert is no lady.
She screams at the spring sky, dances
with her skirts high, kicks sand, flings tumbleweeds,
digs her nails into all flesh.
Her unveiled lust fascinates the sun."