c Joy Harjo March 2009
I walked around in the desert a few weeks ago. Nothing else smells like the desert in the early morning. Remembered how Josiah Moore told me many stories of this place.
4/14/09
Spring at Gila River Reservation
c Joy Harjo March 2009
I walked around in the desert a few weeks ago. Nothing else smells like the desert in the early morning. Remembered how Josiah Moore told me many stories of this place.
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As a poet, I am sure your nose leads you into verse, the way the air smells so sweet in Hawaii on a clear morning, the smell of your canoe and oar and the ocean as your row with your team, the smell of a beach littered with kelp and pieces of crab legs dropped by seagulls, and wet driftwood, the smell of damp mossy rainforest early on in the mist, before the sun's rays find their way into its greeness, and the desert where you strolled in the spring morning, bunch grass, cactus flowers, sagebrush, wild flowers. How can you hold yourself back from creating another opus over your oatmeal?
Glenn
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