Blow

(Santa Cruz

your mountains

crumbling into the sea

your green Pacific

eyes

of a blonde I met here once

rode off on the back of a bike

clutching the ribs of an Australian

hurricane blow-out, up from Mexico

wind rip-snapping my tent

Brian to me: you should dig a trench around your tent

it's gonna rain like a mama

once

Brian got up to cook breakfast

two feet into boots

one found a scorpion

clouds hurtle up over us

criss-cross in layers

boil,

billows of rising heat

we can't see it

but we feel that great eye rotating

(khil-kor

circle and fringe

mandala

all night mountain thunder crash, like cannon

flash lightning flicker-images of friends n' mountains

bottle of Jack Daniels' back n' forth

round the front porch of the yurt

big bill on his feet circling: come on! I'll wrestle ya!

stumble to bed

in morning sun

tent dry as dust