Poecology

Issue 3

 

 
 

RJ Hooker

 

Gilded Flicker

 
 
Holes in saguaro, soft meat between reticulated needles.
 
Spread wings,
delicacy of sporangia,
a cactus boot forms.
 
White flower. Blue sky razed with cloud.
Eighteen-wheeler in the distance, heat shimmering off it in bands.
 
You’d drink muddy water here.
You’d drink dust.
 
How much time do you spend wondering about death?
The just-beyond-this,
how easy it is to slip, to succumb.
 
How can one just lose the instruments of form, light, touch, time?
 
Gila eats a bird alive,
its beaded skin like braille.