Phoenix Lake Loop

even when I cannot see 
among the fumes and thrash 

hawking their wares
the amber’s there

when I step out of doors
and count myself unadorned 

among lupine and monkeyflower
the bay and buckeye mosaic

not on the mountain but in it
I store my spit for the rich of Ross

and on Sir Francis Drake Blvd
curse the names they curse us with 

directing our practical car 
into the arms of Richmond

May Day

I can’t understand 
how to outfit myself in the gloaming 

and go around acting 
unaltered by air

over the mountain the spreading 
comes and the drought

may I be made brave 
by those who are braver

the dead and the young 
no longer and not yet