arizona collected

11 November 2000
arizona, i feel you calling me
deep inside late nights when i am almost asleep,
i feel your breath through the window
-a raspy dust filled breeze-
drift across my cheek
and whisper past my ear.

arizona, i sleep fitfully and wake
from dreams of you only to feel disappointed
at the continued loss of your landscapes, your twilight,
the sweet scent of orange blossoms in spring,
the way palm fronds thrash in a summer monsoon,
and most of all, your skies.

arizona, there is a part of me unwilling to leave you,
no matter where i sleep, still searching for your scent
in the breeze through the window- always longing.
arizona, i feel you calling me.

15 December 2000
arizona, you left me when
i needed you most.
the grit of your deserts
nowhere to be found
when i lacked the strength.

i feel as if i’ve failed you,
in a way, i know i have.
but you’ve failed me too,
i cried alone while your night sky
stood empty.

where were you on autumn nights
when the chill froze leaves
still too green to see november?

the night i dreamt of you,
the scent of your rains lingering
even while i slept-
where were you then?

arizona, why did you do it?

9 January 2001
arizona, i’ve left you far behind,
still, your sidewalks burn my feet,
your sun still warms my skin in a way
i could never capture with words.

17 January 2001
arizona-
i felt your breeze through the window
the other day-
a hint of dust lingered,
then faded and i stood there
long after, trying to recapture the moment.

arizona-
how can we be angry with each other
when you are so much a part of me?
i left you only because i had to and
while away i have only grown to love
you more. no, that’s not true. you
felt it to, didn’t you? the last time,
when we met, you knew, just as i realized
i could live without you.

14 November 2001
arizona-
how can i leave you behind?
i can still taste your breath.
he speaks of you and i with sadness
in his voice. he knows i’ll come back
to you.
arizona, it isn’t fair. can you not hold
us both?
why do i feel as if i cannot hold on
to either of you?
arizona, i’m pleading with you.

26 August 2002
arizona,
how very far apart we are- your sun
reaches me only long after i’ve risen,
and even then, i’m not sure it reaches me at all.
arizona how could you give up on me so easily?