The title poem from this new book
is also, of course, its Chihuahua
and it's a very short poem.
It has a little bit to do with the weather patterns here.
They tell us that in winter our weather comes from the Los
Angeles area, and in summer it comes from the Southeast out
of Chihuahua out of West Texas.
Call it Chihuahua.
Not as one of my students called it chihuahua.
[LAUGHTER]
The storm has come out of Chihuahua looking for cowboys.
Following their spit, they leap from porches,
stand out in front yards watching it lift the lips
of Arroyo's.
Discovering rabbits hiding in bushes.
The bellies of telephone poles whiz
over their heads going North.
High as straddle liners.
But it is already traveled too far,
and stops like this across the sky.
A sacred garment eaten by moths.