“GRID”, 1993, 50″ x 50″, m/m

BLONDE – a poem

On the way to Albuquerque yesterday
I looked at grasses
By the side of the road.
The colors were pre-winter
Blonde and rust and tarnished yellow too.

I found it intriguing
Just beside the blacktop
That the earth there,
Braving the wind of our speed,
Was disturbed.

Some big yellow manly piece
Of Caterpillar equipment
Dug it all up one shiny day.
And after the dirt settled there,
NEW and DELICATE fronds grew.

They seem to like that place,
Turned and routed around.
On their own they chose it,
Over a lonely patch of green
I might’ve picked instead.

No, the lovelies thrive there!
In the reckless and impatient jangling,
Some orange-clad, sunburned guy-man
Took pride in his spit
And numbly walked on.

I thrive too, amidst disturbed gardens.
The seeds thrown meanly
And left bare and dry.
But see this, here?
My body still bends and arches
And the wind never broke me
Or took me down.

I lean and quiver in my place
Hearing something of a tune
That always drowns out the heat.
And my perfume rises
Until the Wind takes it.
He is greedy and ill-mannered.
But I don’t care.
-CA 2010


Leave a Reply