The Evenings Have Been Beautiful Lately A New Wild Fire Burning Out In Joshua Tree Setting The Sky Out By The Sea The Brightest Pink I've Ever Seen

A poem for June #3

Right by San Marcos Pass, April 2023

For June I decided to join my friend Ingrid in writing a poem a day, I am not new to writing a poem a day, but I am new to calling what I write a day a poem. Yesterday, I thought why did I agree to this. Today I thought I am reordering my day towards the word. I would like to dream again. Often, there is more to explore in the in-between space. And I’m considering calling these sketches. Let me know if you like reading them and I will continue sending them to your inboxes or I will just post here daily and you can come check it out at lunch or in the morning or after dinner. I like to read poetry first thing in the morning.

At 5:30 am I text my husband a recipe for grilled chicken with fennel and brioche buns and say should we bring this to the school potluck? 

There were years before my daughter where I didn’t eat meat and then my heart broke  and I became ravenous again, unable to imagine never having everything in my mouth.  

Stopping at the San Marcos Pass. 
Passing my daughter to a stranger so I could hop up and over a fence. 
His amares and their colts grazing. 
My daughter just beginning to name things. 
cow and horse and cat and book.

Entiendes the woman had said on the porch of a finca in Argentina. 
Entiendes said all the boys of my past who could speak my heart's tongue. 
Si. I would say. But I only ever understood half of it. 

Wanting to be a mountain.