Friday, October 9, 2015

Good Night, Newm.

I left New Mexico in September 2013. This is a lost love letter, found.

Good night, Newm.

Good night, trains going east, west, north, and south.

Good night, dancing skeletons.

Good night, soaptree yuccas, my waving roadside soldiers.

Good night, American, Navajo, Mescalero, Chiricahua, Lipan, Jicarillo, Zuni, Hopi, Pueblo, Tortuga, Spanish, Mexican, German, and all of the ghost residents who rest below your soil.

Good night, fragrant roasted chiles.

Good night, Sacramento, Organ, San Andres, Jemez, Guadalupe, Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

Good night, twin sunrises and twin sunsets.

Good night, shimmery White Sands.

Good night, grandiose Tularosa Basin.

Good night, sonic booms.

Good night, little red ants.

Good night, tarantulas.

Good night, pretty tamarisk.

Good night, tumbleweeds.


When I left New Mexico and entered Texas, back in September 2013, on my way to Missouri, I felt the slightest physical tug, as if I pushed through a living membrane that separated one world from the next.

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