Pat’s Poetry Place 2020

When did your hand grow so?
Yesterday, I hid it safe
in mine, squeezed and squeezed
when the wind gobbled my words.


Borders, 1986


My Own True Name by Pat Mora

I feel like a small child
only able to speak very simple
all the time I feel incomplete

“Learning English: Chorus in Many Voices”

My Own True Name, 2000


Agua Santa: Holy Water

She carries a green river,
    heavy, but it hums.
In any desert, she can bow her head
  and sip from her own arms.


Agua Santa: Holy Water, 1995



“I want

to walk
with you
on my Texas desert.”

“For Georgia O’Keeffe,”

Chants, 1984 (my first book)

Encantado: Desert Monologues

“I speak words of faith—practice, practice.
I pick up the next shoe or boot—like us,
it needs patient attention and repair.”

Señor Ortega
Encantado: Desert Monologues