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.



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.


This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?