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Monument of Tin



In Antonito, Colorado, stands a two-story beer can castle
visible for blocks as you take Main Street, mud and tin,
discards of a lapsed warrior who stacks glass and
nails hubcaps, banging out his gratitude for survival in battle.
We’re told that the maker resides in an adjacent trailer, drinks
tea with deities, having sworn off tobacco scored in Binh Ba,
Vietnam, and the binge alcohol of potential death. He
saws the cans in half and drags them flattened to the backyard,
flipped inside out, sculpts icing of sparkling shingles
Stark red evil eye swings at the front gate, burning
reminder, and our Lady of Guadalupe, mother of God, stands
coy in a small birdcage. She is safe here with her head bowed,
one innocent outstretched hand under these eerie winter windows
curtains torn to expose only black and the menagerie of glass as
insulation. These monumental spires resemble grain silos
on the horizon, or nose cone capsules separated from their trajectory,
rockets that mock heaven’s silver mirrors. Spies... 


To hear the poem in its entirety, join me for a reading, 1pm, December 6th, La Tienda Performance Space, El Dorado, NM, joined by fellow Red Mountain Press poets Denise Lowe and Linda LeGarde Grover

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