This and That

caught in the exhaustions

long hard plow 

sparking blade

buried rocks of the backward

black and whites

on the beach

sisters lean against the moon

smile in a drenching sun

a waving net catches

their splashing rays

blinding innocence

their halos embrace

touch the gulls

gliding wings

beyond the you

beyond the up

and down

it is the warm kitchen

thick black coffee
freshly made bread

of the this 

and that
that matters

it is the here and there

high and low

the misty streets delighting

hard scratch of dirt and weeds

many melodies of too many meadows

flowerless now

their birds scattered

in a man's halting song

high above 
the torn and maddened

land

JP Pestana 9.28.16

Slow Rider the dark bay roams the desert's frail blooms kicks out at cactus flowers crimson pears the cholla's dusted golds the slow rider senses one crow's iridescent glow so serene so perfectly folded in death's plaguing peace leaves him no choice but to call to the wounded sun beware beware there is death here wingless in its' cruel wonder stealing before the heat before the shimmer of his casual amusements rob him
reveal the weak colors of what he is the hawk's shadow takes him leaving nothing in his remains

JP Pestana 9. 27. 16

The Passer By

a strong breeze rattles shakes at

the eye of the passer by

he is deaf to the boundless bouncing light

in the sailing death of freshly fallen leaves

close to him he believes he sees

she is more the dark sparkle

lesser shadows

delicate voice gluing

the cracked lines of a child's vase

held with tears in the lost closets

larger shadows

of her harmed

imaginations

JP Pestana 9.25.16

The Passer By

a strong breeze rattles shakes at

the eye of the passer by

he is deaf to the boundless bouncing light

in the sailing death of freshly fallen leaves

close to him he believes he sees

she is more the dark sparkle

lesser shadows

delicate voice gluing

the cracked lines of a child's vase

held with tears in the lost closets

larger shadows

of her harmed

imaginations

JP Pestana 9.25.16

Old Friend

in flickering windows

talk of the street below

old friend walk with me

let's speak to what wind 

licks the skin 

salt of our own small worlds

listen to all the skies

nod to clouds whirling

clawing rains

let us sit 

smoke from our pipes

breathe deeply the sweet smoke 

lifting dreams

deeper intoxications sip of the spirit

let us lose ourselves in the mysteries

lost to me

lost to us

tell me

can you see through these trees

to the greenest fields

the old potatoes on the sill

look to the low sun exhaling

shedding the horizon

inhaling what seductions

the aging dark

will bring

JP Pestana  9.23.16

Old Friend

in flickering windows

talk of the street below

old friend walk with me

let's speak to what wind 

licks the skin 

salt of our own small worlds

listen to all the skies

nod to clouds whirling

clawing rains

let us sit 

smoke from our pipes

breathe deeply the sweet smoke 

lifting dreams

deeper intoxications sip of the spirit

let us lose ourselves in the mysteries

lost to me

lost to us

tell me

can you see through these trees

to the greenest fields

the old potatoes on the sill

look to the low sun exhaling

shedding the horizon

inhaling what seductions

the aging dark

will bring

JP Pestana  9.23.16

Old Friend

in flickering windows

talk of the street below

old friend walk with me

let's speak to what wind 

licks the skin 

salt of our own small worlds

listen to all the skies

nod to clouds whirling

clawing rains

let us sit 

smoke from our pipes

breathe deeply the sweet smoke 

twisting dreams

deeper intoxications sip of the spirit

let us lose ourselves in the mysteries

lost to me

lost to us

tell me

can you see through these trees

to the greenest fields

the old potatoes on the sill

look to the low sun exhaling

shedding the horizon

inhaling what seductions

the aging dark

will bring

JP Pestana  9.23.16

Random 

tonight all of the ranges blush blue 

deep ruby

foothills grace the glaring pale 

race by

spill gold 

over cedar 

juniper 

pinon

spanish horses splashing 

roll in riverbed dust 

raise clouds of dust 

and cloud

raise expectations 

that now

the drought

will end

certainly he feels the lightning bleed 

the virga's thinly streaming lines

feels the terror of nothing

raining on his land

it is his harsh and

gentle rain 

it is the harsh 

and gentle 

hum

and the random drum

of summer thunder 

and the random drum 

of summer 

and the random drum

and the random

random

drums

jp pestana 9.15.16

Taos In Three

see what happens in the loudest clouds
confusing a thousand absent skies
thousand twisted tongues
drowning out his conflictions
he challenges the whole
of the blue surround


then the garden's stone bench
whispers that her flowers are dancing 
he sees her dancing trees
sweet voices in the moan 
of a yearning Taos sun


a reservation dog pants 
in shadows black dust 
scratches madly at the flea of day
barks at tattoo girls in their wet summer dresses 
giggling in their own fleeing shadows

jppestana 9/11/16