-
PUEBLO CHRISTMAS
The night is that bitter coldthat slices easily throughnylon and Polartec, makeschild’s play of fleece and denim.The small rooms glowin the dim radiance of propane lightsand heaters as the silveris carefully packed awayin plastic tool boxes.The pinyon wood is neatly stackedin forty pyres, some little tallerthan the white childrenclinging to their parents’ legs,some reaching twenty-five…
-
MAP STORE
The bride walks down the aisletrailing a veil of tearsrolling in the dustof too many centuries,encrusting the virgin. Albert Einsteinpurchases a map of Taos. Bookkeeper hunchesover ledger sheetstallying night winds acrossthe frozen pond, logwedged in the ice. Douglas Macarthurpurchases a map of Hue. Monitors blare newsfrom other worlds, flickeringacross cups of half emptycoffee and cigarette…
-
ONE DAY
We stood trapped betweenslack-jawed and reverentlooking at the woman sittingcross-legged outside the doorwaylovingly fashioning a pot,her gnarled fingers gentleon the yielding clay. Others this day fashionedrings and pendantssimple tools on silverand one of a kind treasuresthey would lay outon blankets hoping wewould want morethan just a photograph. Our day on the Taos Puebloended too early,…
-
ON THE MESA
On the mesa you can step outsideand look up at the sky,clouds building mountainsthat threaten to eat the sun,swallow the moon whole. On the mesa you can step outsideand feel incredibly small,listen to the coyotes withthe ears of scared children,unable to run like the jackrabbit. On the mesa you can step outsideand look up at…
-
UNMOVED
In the community parking lotin the center of Taos,and old pickup sat complacentmore than parked, rustingin spots, last paintedby someone in the late ‘70sperhaps. It might havebeen able to move, but itshowed no desire to do so,tires not flat but wishing so. That was thirteen years ago,and it is likely no longerthere, or collapsed into…
-
BUCKET LIST
Crossing the Rubicon,or any other European Riverfor that matter. Skiing the backcountryor Black Diamond at Taos Mountainor Aspen or Vail. Hiking to the basecampof Everest, or walking some portionor all of the Appalachian Trail. Standing shoulder to shoulderwith hundreds of othersat the jazz festival. Hugging my sons orkissing my grandchildrenon their birthdays. Forgetting all that…
-
AGAIN THE DREAM
The dream came to him again last night. He could never be certain if it was on the barren high mesa outside Taos or in the endless sands of Morocco. It really didn’t matter, since the action of the dream took place in a restaurant, and its location was ambiance, although he suspected it did…
-
MESA MORNING
Out here, he warned, you should always be on the lookout for snakes by day, not that they will go out of their way to attack you, but stray into their territory and the Western Diamondback will give you a quick lesson in awareness. They hide among the scrub sage and in the arroyos, but…
-
PUEBLO CHRISTMAS
The night is that bitter cold that slices easily through nylon and Polartec, makes child’s play of fleece and denim. The small rooms glow in the dim radiance of propane lights and heaters as the silver is carefully packed away in plastic tool boxes. The pinyon wood is neatly stacked in forty pyres, some little…
-
ON THE MESA
At night, in these mountains you see a million stars, but all you hear is the silence. It bothers you, this silence and you strain to hear, what? There is no one here but you and your breath is swallowed by the night sky. Be still for the wind will rise, and these mountains and…
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
an old writer and his words 