Big is your heart
and grave to your making
I will set myself to your love
a thunder to the landscape
rain and flood and wild horses
in your father's corral
I am standing opposite your desire
slender and humid to be opened
kissed and made more than content
you are the very heart of Texas
never subdued but all ways
singing your self-soul to the tempo
soul of the story
soul of the earth
soul to my soul
heart of weeds and roses
play and sing
and dance me to the end.
My desire
moves me west
mind of my making
I dreamt you
for decades
the sturdy blonde boy
on his father's panhandle
ranch — come what may
you lived another life
one I could not have
imagined — the road —
the music — the sensation
of consistent celebration
married young with
daughters — I wouldn't
have known how to even
speak — much less sing
you into my heart
my heart of the matter
you write me love
letters from Lubbock
God and the Devil
Jesus should come
to rapture — to you
to me — knit our very bones
together — a lifetime worth
of smiles — of mercy
to forgiveness
of knowing the meaning
of life — the final
fragility of fleeting fame
what you had — what I
dreamt — but now we meet
rancher's son
to blacksmith's daughter.
we meet without
the foolishness
of youth — without
the trappings of famous
others surrounding
just us — a man
and a woman
called back by life
called forth by love.
There's a flood in southeast
Texas and you tell me
it's been raining for two
days in Lubbock — three people
dead — the earth
drenched — I'll look beyond
and count the days
before you
arrive — it's now one
spin short of a full month
I'll count the miles as you fly first
to Houston and then east to me
I'll count each star that burns
the darkness into milk
each bird that moves
across the turning golden
trees outside my window
I've counted years from
my making — my child's birthday
in a row of candles
I've counted only on myself
to make life happen
to watch each cycle turn
with blood and light
but now I'll count with you
to make that moon shine splendid
against a boundless night.