Traveling in the Desert

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La Purissima Conception

A curving walk
of decomposed granite

a dry mound
of xerophytic plants

out of the missions                      
      in the sixth decade               Owens Valley

out of his parent’s time              They drive
in the years after the war            in the hot speed
                                                             through the trough
they sit                                                 of the graben
                                                              into the Mojave
in the soft warmth                           like a finger
of the dry heat                                  following a line
the estivating plants                                   on a map        
 and inherited memories                      past a cave called Pilth
                                                               to a desert cafe
They could be                                           
a brother and sister                    He sits with Egairia
a husband and wife                      who is not quite herself
two stones                                     but more like Aiks
full of each other’s presence                       She asks him
                                  like this air                to speak to the waitress
     having a common history               and when he returns   
 or a common mind                his seat has been taken
 
                                                                           As the people move
                                                                     to make room
                                           mumbling
          that it’s as crowded
        as a bus
        Egairia says
in a quiet
sad voice
that she wants to leave

The waitress tells them
that if they want to be alone
they’ll have to go
into the desert
to a cliff
or a grotto


…


Shadow Valley

They pass through his tribe
of light friendly people
wearing headbands
and living with
the water
of the desert
trapped in their eyes

They pass through
his other tribe
(“Geronimo’s tribe”
says the waitress                                      A child
through the air)                                        Pahn walks barefoot
of dark                                                          through the mesquite
quiet strength                                                            to touch
hard and good looking                          Penelopeya’s Long dress
                                                             of dust
where a man                                                     and cloth
from the Bureau                                               faded
scolds the administrator                               and dry
for failing                                                         thick and layered—
to build a back wall                                     the body so protected
                                                                           as never to be felt
But the administrator                                as if it were winter
points out                              and he can only feel the hem
that he was not given                            as he turns away
adequate resources               
 
                               back toward the desert wilderness

And Pahn feels like he has                                              


killed someone                  
 
           The administrator knows his words
mean nothing
to the man
but knows also
how true they are

…


Hunter Mountain

Pahn’s desert is naked
its wind-blown skin
smooth with soil
holding its water inside
waiting for the one
who will go with it
into the horsts of rock—
the hidden springs
of the high pinyon

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