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Phillips - San Pedro WS

Phillips - San Pedro WS

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Published by MichelleChen
Logan Phillips, Sonoran Strange, "San Pedro"
Logan Phillips, Sonoran Strange, "San Pedro"

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Published by: MichelleChen on Feb 04, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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The Sonoran Strange: San Pedro By Logan Phillips, from The Sonoran Strange

Sonoran strange, how long till the water runs out? Sonoran strange, have you hid the monsoon between your ears, water pouring from your face? Monsoons in centenarian fight to make it down to the aquifer; have you frozen the monsoon into the icecubes in your drink? Drought dodger, sand irrigator, irrational instigator, artisian artisan, oasis schemer, optimist for profit, canal digger, developer, line drawer, civilizer, glutton, goner. Ditat deus. Never wanted to hide in the rain shadows? Never wanted to face the dry music? Well don’t dare speak of tightening the sunbelt in Cibola, the Seven Cities of Aquifer, the irrigated never-neverland. Conquistador archeologists stealing fossil water, not-for-long land. Water in our eyes and humid sighs, such as we are we shit into drinking water because it is convenient. And this poem is only as nihilistic as Arizona was overly optimistic. Depredation, privitization, privation, pordioseros, ditat deus.

What do the monsoons taste like after their waters have been aged a thousand years in a sand aquifer, reposados? Can you tell me what sand tastes like on the rocks? What it looks like, sand in the toliet bowl, what it looks like, sand pouring from the tap in the kitchen, what it sounds like, sand streaming from the carwash? What does it look like, a man stooping to suck from the sprinklers in Popago Park? What does it look like, sand shooting from the sprinklers, drowning the golf course in its dry breath? Water management plan: we’ll inject all of the empty water bottles back into the earth, to prop up our cities before they sink into empty aquifers. Western states holding the Colorado hostage, nothing flowing into Mexico. Evaporation tanks flooding Hayduke canyons, Central Arizona Project delaying the inevitable. Hetch Hetchy, Glenn Canyon, Echo Park. Walking water dancing in drops spilling from the sky, the sky an inverse aquifer. Paloverde trees on drip systems. The elderly on drip systems. Everyone holding a drop of hope. Phoenix needs its fix, fall into a panic drought, a pandemic, paranoid of the obvious–oblivious by choice. We’ll irrigate our way outta this we’ll irradiate our way outta this we’ll entertain our way outta this, fatal this. Everyone’s skeleton is a pueblo some have seen more rain than others. The only reconquista that really matters is the coming victory of dust and coyotes. We’ll see this, you and I: the day thirst returns to the desert.

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