there is nothing to understand
the fletch
the shaft
from the tip
to the flight
a pointed direction
an intended target
the air between
along intention
and the sound of movement
and the sound of impact
preparations
the beginnings and the ends
we hold the bow
and sting it's sounds
with intents and results
which are the real moments?
when are the real moments?
which is origin?
where is moments
moment?
to understand nothing
night
it's a whisper
a breeze hinted
the night
it's a silk dance
to the music
of night
a gentile zephyr
an anticipation
of night
Al Mendoza 2-22
Dreaming of Colors
the night the colors hinted in dreams
the light the dark hinted in coming shades
that anticipation
that shaded whisper
as if the very air were salted
prepared for boiling
and in the salt is the flavor not yet tasted
like a guess like a kiss
what to place in that cauldron
what flavors do those choices make
we prepare the preparations
we summon a memory
the next is better than the last
we have to start the fire
dreams of colors
tastes of that anticipation
memories made to summon that last
that cauldron
that fire
of anticipation
A Mendoza, 2022
What?
2022
The first sunset over a Texas bay
in decades
where are the mountains?
i suddenly missed the mountains i lived by
those eternal canvasses of light, shadow, desert heat and winter's snow caps
moving water pushed by winds unrelenting
drifting snow rushing to its resting place
so alike in rage and power
so different in taste and feel
move the water to the mountain it becomes snow
move the snow to the bay it becomes water
eternal are the lights, shadow, and wind
to be only a man in snow
to be only the singular in water
we are shadow and wind
a witness to the mountain
Al Mendoza, January 2022
