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Prayer"Praying", he said when I asked him what he was doing, Standing in a corner of the backyard Facing the raw wood fence Wearing a hooded parka in the first week of June Smelling equally of sweat and incense I could hear the tourist traffic from the highway a block away La abuela's Chihuahua across the street barking his tiny brains out and the magpies yacking it up - always the wiseguys He waved his long arm above him making some Rasta mudra genuflection Calling down his ally, Jesus Selassie I And his mother, Kali I turned to go inside My arms full of skulls and groceries From the corner of my eye I saw The bird - a sparrow, light upon his head It fluttered briefly there And he, beneath it, Smiled and closed his eyes Peace be with you, Jesus, Buddha, Krishna, Rastafari In the name of the mother, and her son, Hold fear at bay And bless us, one more day Taos, June 1998 |
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Issue #8, April, 1999 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.