Monday, September 24, 2018
AUTUMN RAIN
The rain doesn't
understand
anything --
not vapor,
not liquid,
not solid.
Not rivers
which make lakes
and oceans,
not the lakes
and oceans.
The rain doesn't
understand
this melancholy
afternoon,
this old, grey
poet lost
in memory.
Doesn't
understand
what love is,
and death.
Highway 70, Mile Marker 251
from
NOTEBOOK: NEW MEXICO
January, 2016
Highway 70, Mile Marker 251
White horse
against
a red shed --
how much
depends
on this?
Sunday, September 23, 2018
Highway 70, Mile Marker 247
from
NOTEBOOK: NEW MEXICO
January, 2016
Highway 70, Mile Marker 247
Trees in these
mountains. Accept
the conditions.
Take your chances.
Saturday, September 22, 2018
Highway 70, Mile Marker 245
from
NOTEBOOK: NEW MEXICO
January, 2016
Highway 70, Mile Marker 245
“We are a proud people,”
say the Mescalero
in these proud mountains.
Friday, September 21, 2018
Highway 70, Mile Marker 242
from
NOTEBOOK: NEW MEXICO
January, 2016
Highway 70, Mile Marker 242
What tires me?
The work
of ravens.
Thursday, September 20, 2018
Highway 70, Mile Marker 240
from
NOTEBOOK: NEW MEXICO
January, 2016
Highway 70, Mile Marker 240
Dead leaf
a monarch
butterfly
against
the guardrail.
Wednesday, September 19, 2018
Highway 70, Mile Marker 236
from
NOTEBOOK: NEW MEXICO
January, 2016
Highway 70, Mile Marker 236
The snow-capped peak
playing hide and seek,
one game, another.
NOTEBOOK: NEW MEXICO
January, 2016
Highway 70, Mile Marker 236
The snow-capped peak
playing hide and seek,
one game, another.
Monday, September 17, 2018
Highway 70, Mile Marker 230
from
NOTEBOOK: NEW MEXICO
January, 2016
Highway 70, Mile Marker 230
The weight
of the day
in these
mountains,
the light
shows us
nothing.
