Although
my daughter screams,
'all you do is get drunk and write poetry'
it's not true
i've never been drunk a day in my life
although
i've written plenty of bad poetry
poem by Esteban Arellano
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O Sunflower
O
sun / flower
(hallelujah!)
rambunctious
golden petals
illuminate pink pebbles in a puddle
illuminate bedeviled black beetles
journeying on a dubious path
O
sun / flower
rambunctious
razzmatazz - yes! - razz/ma/tazz
zings six students skipping
zings a wise woman warbling
in mornings glistening cathedral
zings Lorena - aye Lorena! -sneaking
in the rear door of Roberto‘s house
O
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poem by Esteban Arellano
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Santa FE
The sky is bluest
in the clean, thin mountain air
of Santa Fe.
Seven days in the city
of Holy Faith,
but my faith is anything but holy.
It's 3: 30 a.m.
The cottonwood's roots are buried deep
underneath the adobe house.
Its arms scrape the skylight.
Raindrops tap against the window.
She sighs and says,
'I always loved you.'
I roll out of bed
and, in the dark, reach for my clothes.
By 4: 30 a.m. I'm on the road to Albuquerque.
My thoughts are on the hot air balloon
that, for awhile,
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poem by Esteban Arellano
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