Away from the Light

Someday the cracks in the wall will mean something.
In sleep I will stumble across the key,
wake up understanding,
have secrets to share with my sketchbook.

Someday the chill of this bedroom will
overpower the naked bulb overhead,
but I've never been afraid of cold or shadows.

I won't allow my roots to sink through the clay.
I'll just begin to notice things:
the way your eyes are slightly offset,
the coffee and garbage smell of a Monday morning,
the uneasy candle's flame,
and shadows that curve from the light.
              -JM, 2009

Phoenix, AZ

Today through the windshield
Camelback grew like large
mushrooms in the sand.

Each mound crumbled forth,
covered from the sun down
in dust, like a red

and dull-throb contusion. I saw
the green-and-flower spine-forks
of desert drink bloom

elegantly in the moonrise,
steady through the breeze.
The stars found her back
raised high and breeding inward

when the praying monk
breathed through them.
                       -JM, ca. 2000
                               Photograph taken in January 2009 at White Sands (not Phoenix, unfortunately).