What resurrects save falling?
This rainy day in the desert
     Muffle-grey cat lies down on us.
And I am a rumpled lotus bud.
Opened enough to see a little.
     Down in the valley, those others live
     Up on the hillside, those others live
The poor, not like me, and the rich, not like me.
How can I tell them what matters to me?
How can I hear them, know them, be with them, when
     I am so different?
To ask the question is to begin to see the path
Like a rumpled lotus bud
Opened enough to see a little.

El Paso, 2004.04.11

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