Tempe, AZ

Each mind is its own place
Mine a motel in Tempe, Arizona
A nomad    A nudist
Pacing the lot tracing ghost lines,
Hunchback and Sunburnt.
A pool collecting Cracker Jack rings
Hair ties    Band-aids
The hair in the drain.
An old sheet pinned to the clothesline
The dirty wind that soils it warm,
Waving     Wrung.
The desert dark pulling shadow-covers
Over grand-canon back alleys,
Red-faced    Cactus-caught
Mining through trash.
And the homesick sand thumbing
Spine silhouettes    Ghost carriages
Tumbleweeds home.

original poetry by Hogan

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