Life is slowed down.
A sibling. A sapling. Dead hairy footed halflings I don’t know why They had to die But better hobbits than me! I’ll drink ‘em a toast When I reach the coast To sail the soddin’ sea. “What happened them halflings?” The cap’n, he asked me. “Not a clue,” says I WIth a wink of an eye, Hoping he’d not get What I’d got in my Nasty little pocket.
Medicine Bow Mountains, WY Verlyn Klinkenborg wrote that “In Wyoming people talk as though winter were ‘out there’ even now, lurking not in time but in space, being prepared somewhere in a shop or factory, awaiting only final assembly and shipment to the proper address.” When I went through Wyoming in September of 2022, winter felt like a kaiju, Godzilla marching southward to blanket Tokyo in…
Northeast Texas I took my daughter on the Harley to Piney Cemetery near Harleton, Texas, a beautiful place. She asked me if I’d bury her there. “I hope not,” I said.
All the angels in this town Are the fallen kind Except mine So I drove her out with a cat-o’-nine Clawing at her Never coming back
Hugin, Munin, and Gorg Sat upon a gate. One knew all the yesterdays, One knew all of fate, And one flew along the road To see if you’d be late.
On the road to Roswell, NM I woke up in deep west Texas. The dull horizon glow of sunset had faded while I napped. A cool, dry breeze blew through the partially open driver's window. The radio mumbled some old song I almost recognized while tires droned on the interstate blacktop. Her hand was on my arm. "Look, out there," she said, nodding toward my window. I turned my head. Near the car,…