The Glare

who were you after all

after all these years 

places

who were you 

in that window

when the sun ran molten 
a gold street

on a still river 

of a life still
undecided

who were you when you first discovered

love and pain ran hand-in-hand

when innocence was just an imagination 

of things unfolding before 
your very eyes

your very 
being

and what touched you

when touch was still new

and everything there was spun freely

like an easy wind catching a spring  leaf

lifting it slowly from 

the warm grass

into the 

glare

jpestana

4.26.18

the glare

Sunday Drive Corrales

the sun is split evenly

between the river and

blossoming clouds

corrales

by the roadside

a poet waves to passersby

hawks his wares

the pumpkin people smile

in their bright gingham shirts

hold up a cheerful spring sign

he wishes them pie

a girl radiant

on a blue bike

she has a white basket

gracefully pedals by

she brings him all of spring's pink blossoms

daunting blues

mountain shadows

cottonwoods scarred by time

their comforting shade

fading voice

of a poet making change

in the shimmer

of a young girl's

eyes

jppestana

Sunday Drive Corrales

4.22.18

Idaho

say Idaho

say Idaho with me

your flowers surround me
speak in their hushed colors
were they the forgotten ones
from forgotten years or
newly born to a young spring sun
the slightest twist of wind touches the skin
fine hairs of your small wrist
light pours into your eyes
all kinds of shadows pour out
escaping

say Idaho
it will be our secret
breathless as you are
far enough from me to see
everything there is to see between us
teasing at our horizons
pulling at the strings
knots of silence

say Idaho before the darkness arises
before the days end before their time
before our shadows stray from this uneasy earth
find new lives of their own
in some unknown place
and for one last time
let us know what is ours
and ours
alone

Idaho

jppestana
4.21.18
Idaho

The Perfect Word

today I searched the world

for the perfect word

I turned over every rock

searched every sky

every sea even 
the naked eyes 

of a woman
of some
mystery

drained 

I searchingly bit into the flesh

of a 

cold

sweet

peach

jpestana

the perfect word

4.15.18

The Whistle

oh sweet finch
sing your spring songs
the chill is still strong in the morning air
for you me the days are longer now
so too the shadows
the telling wind rustles winter leaves
scratch at the graying stone
the shadows creep closer
an aging sun raises itself
leaves no doubt 
leaves me in the soft whistle
of my thawing 
thoughts

jppestana
the whistle
april1, 2018