House Made of Pollen: Hohokam Stadium, Phoenix 2008

At Hohokam, the pollen hangs in the air like something from Marquez, the postcard sky is heavy with flowery ephemera

We build our houses of this haze, thinking they’ll survive the huffing of the Big Bad Wolf, but Hohokam knows that nothing lasts forever

Old guys playing baseball don’t care how much they’ve lost; they’re here to play, little thinking of the pollen-burnished sun, how it labors on its way