the desert speaks I

the desert speaks &
the heat swallows you

there are mountains surrounding
to the northeast the rocks are black: "tucson"
as if balloons were inflated and popped
in a pool of molten lava
at the confluence of two dry rivers

we camp on the surface in billowing white tents
the ground crackles and pops
we spit watermellon seeds
cicadas lost in the pads of a prickly pear

"love and rely on the desert"

we camp amid the stranded fortresses of blasted, bygone greatness
mine tailings
mixed with broken
clay tablets, pueblos

a shared hallucination:
sun cuts through sparse leaves
many thin things, split apart
a few scattered hermitages and
six emaciated deer in a dry stream
too tired to run away
ghost paths over empty ground
waiting for the monsoon

it is hard to swallow here
the wind and
El sol y sombra,
Sonora

I woke at 4 am

I woke at 4am today after dreaming about the design of the hanging mobiles hanging outside my door. They are wine bottles spiral-wrapped in wire, hanging above an adobe wall. The cactus all around are Sonoran, but working with mud (adobe) I can finally make snowmen like Calvin and Hobbes. I made use of the cedar sawdust composting toilet and fed the bitch-chickens, who just want me to chase them so they can squwak. Imagine how much estrogen you'd need to lay an egg every single day. These are not happy birds. Luckily I am an enlightened creature, with 7 chakras and the names of 12 zodiac constellations tucked under my belt. Saw the sun rise and went for a jog with my spear -- no game today, limped back to the casita and downed a liter of coconut juice. Dehydration's a killer that stalks by night. Then I went to inspect the latest bathtub full of clay mud. Earthy bentonite, straw, and (if in Afro-India a hefty dab of manure) combines to make a swell concrete. I'd like to try digging a nice badger-burrow like all the other animals in the desert, but don't know how they keep the floods out. I'd like to try planting a bamboo forest and coming back 5 years later to weave a giant basket/yurt/tepee house, replete with multicolored hammocks and a dozen kites or hot air balloons to mark the spot when I'm out on forages. More and more feral every day. Wearing a bear-tooth necklass. ...Then i got on my motorcycle and rode up over the mountains to my neuroscience job, where frankenstein-esque shit goes down. Brain surgery, computer-brain interfaces, weird stutter-start blown fuse littered benchtop CYBORGS, and the latinas all mutter under their breath "!dios mio!". Escape is only 6 hours and a couple months away. Then I'm taking the high road right up the backbone of the continent to get a brrreath of fresh air. Crazy. Colorado. Cool? Shout the ancestors, speak the many tongued forks in your road, swirl with the gastrointestinal juices that wash the fruit of four continents in your local deli. Raw milk is heavenly. I feel Kalahari. And having way to much fun with this. Got to go cut up some insects.

How to Build with Cob (Adobe)

First, sift some dirt. High clay content and low organic matter is best; Tucson dirt is just about right.

Then add lots of water and straw and knead it like dough. With your feet.

In a bathtub.

You will get very dirty.

Lather it on a framework such as straw bales or reed mats.

What's your favorite country?

More info.