“All them saguaros”
Lester Robles
All them saguaros
lined up like guards
in a fugitive
forest, fallacy
symbols, all them
pricks surrounding his
pup-tent pitched behind
alien boulder
protecting him from morning
sandstorms, grit still
in his gums from previous
occasions, what
omen is it now,
Career Offender, who
schlepped rhythm &
prose across state-
lines, you know, “fed”
territory, or post-
cowboy jurisdiction, how
far will he follow
vapor trails & the incessant
yammering of palm
shoots, pebbles, & yucca, how
will he dodge pop-
up checkpoint pat-
downs, smuggling sound
& affect, stanzas on indigo
children & shapeshifters
the slo-mo coup
d’etat plot-twist that
slipped into his blood-
stream, muddying his DNA
enough for new abilities
to wrangle & fuse
ephemera into a marble
away at the thing
until it’s somewhat another
thing
~~~~~
Lester Robles is a poet from San Diego, California who is now spending some time in an Arizona desert.