They run like ghosts
the coyotes
twirling from head
and tail
turning with the swift fury
of the stirred dust devil
and just as quickly
stopping
on a small outcropping
with a sharp stillness
to gaze and make
contact, to let
you know they’ll be
gone in a flash,
just like you, leaving
their markings
in secret places
of the field.
—Stacey Warde
I jumped out
of the car to pee
where we pulled over on Highway 17
on our way to Santa Cruz.
I breathed in
the fresh wet ferns
and dripping redwood trees
that formed a winter canopy over the side of the road.
She came up behind
me and wrapped her arms
around me and grabbed me firmly
and commanded, “Let go! I want to do it.”
She waved me in wild wintry patterns
at the orange, brown and red
dampened leaf fall,
the litter of redwood limbs already wet from the rain.
—Stacey Warde
I.
On the way into the grocery store (you know the one
behind the cali fusion temple to tacos), what do I hear?
Didja get some last night, or didja go home ‘n make millions of shower babies?
Inside the store, subject to millions of images of gross ‘n grunty middle-aged paunchy grocery
store manager getting some—compliments of one overactive imagination—
I forget the sour cream.
II.
In the local cafe (you know the one where the first owner went missing ‘n everyone’s got a tale
about what she’s up to now), what did one barista just say to another?
You couldn’t find it because you’re a guy and guys can’t find shit!
Would you like to hear her scowl—sour-faced and venomous—and link gender (any gender) to
lack as you sup your morning brew?
—Amber Hudson Fend
I saw a human
form laid out
flat against the hard
asphalt pavement of coastal
Highway 1 today
wrapped in
a yellow body bag,
the bag’s edges, like wings,
fluttered against the profile
of a face frozen in
death in the ocean
breeze, The Rock beyond,
barely visible,
wrapped in its own shroud
of yellow fog.
—Stacey Warde
my shadow jumped out
from the corner
of the cemetery road
and it spooked me.
I laughed and fell
into a dream
fearless
of love
fearless of the moon
and the half-moon light
sparkling
in the wet black sand
dripping diffuse
warm and blue
teasing out love
pulling down the tide
sweeping me off
my feet
until they
danced.
I gave my nakedness
to her beauty.
I am that willing
I am that overwhelmed
no longer afraid
no longer paranoid
in the half-moon light.
—Stacey Warde
summoned at the altar
with the host of wine and flesh
she lifts her lace and lights a votive
waiting for the voice
el dia de los angelitos esta pasado
this night belongs to the dead.
unlike the spanish from her mouth
that drowning soft unloosened song,
this hymn marches on agave feet
feeds her body peyote dreams
while the forbidden words
of a forgotten language
sund her eyes with spirit tears.
condemning, cajoling, questioning,
the souls gather a flock as birds
thrown across the moon
madly twining the night into stars.
she sleeps safely beneath the altar,
smoke seeping from her hair.
—Ruth Rice
let the soil touch my face
in a final sharing of stored light
for it is the dirt of this earth
that gave me birth
let it take me home again
i will sing with the worms
lift blades of grass
as fingers to the wind
raise saplings to catch the rain
i will speak from stones
beneath a broken moon
let me crawl into the earth
and she into me
we will make love, eternal
as the crickets sing
—Ruth Rice
