Little bit from a clove of gender,
which you find among the books brought
and this is a little cluster of pieces
that are Arizona wildflowers that are little prose poems.
And I'm crazy about Arizona wildflowers
even though you need a rather super monocle to see them.
They're awfully tiny pip oh boy.
Don't they look good?
But you have to get next to them on the roadside.
Very nice things.
So I'm going to read you one of these called engelmann prickly
pear.
Voluptuous bright yellow blooms embody our desire.
Erupt from poison pads with spines to which
the javelina are immune.
Life forms contain their possibilities
and ruggedly survive, transcend, evolve toward numbing fear.
The prickly pear, a source of color,
food, routinely flowers in spring.
These yellows that turn peach.
These stamens that recall when touched.
Bees dusted past their burrowing.
Wine colored fruit ripens late summer.
Feeds coyotes, pack rats, or is sweetened
into jelly that extends by virtuosity,
our common understanding.
And desert mariposa, another.
Wild Lily of desire infrequently appears.
Bulb pushes the Earth open.
Pressures daylight to receive vermilion.
Centered gland anchors the smooth pressed flower.
Have I in mind the right rainfall and warmth.
Level of comfort with the slopes that spawn a tantalizing bloom.
Do I touch unscented cloth with lips that learn infinity.
Pure moment carried to a poised light patiently in love.