This is a poem I'm workshopping tomorrow. Some of the text is taken from a children's book, How Deserts Are Made. It's a pseudo found text piece, because I added a lot of my own words.
How Deserts Are Made
My family lives in a desert house.
There is never enough milk
at the breakfast table.
The desert poppy has adapted to live
without much. After a storm it bursts
into red flower and dies.
Weather changes the landscape.
Grains of sand blown by the wind carve
the red rock into pillars. These change
shape as the wind changes direction.
My father changes into someone else
every morning. Coral snakes
drape themselves on his tie rack.
All desert animals must be able to live
with very little. I hear Gila Monsters
shift under my bed. I stop sleeping
in the bottom bunk.
My mother is silent for days.
She serves bowls of sand for dinner.
She often disappears in the shadows under the porch.
The kit fox yips outside my window at night.
He sings blue shoe, blue shoe, blue shoe.
It is a sad sound. I often wish I could see
the moon but my father says he hides it.
A man can survive for a week in the desert
if he knows what to do.
There are beautiful things here, things that
sting and run away.
I sit on the lawn at noon and watch
the scorpions gather stones.
They are building a fence around us.
They need protection.
I’ve lived twelve years,
never tasted water.